Cape Musings

Pope Wages War on Satan

The Pope has announced a new initiative to train more priests in exorcisms.  They feel they've been a little lax as of late and it's time to get down to business.  In the next few years, priests from all over the world will be taught how to perform a series of gestures and prayers to invoke the power of God and stop the "demon" from influencing its victim. Standing with our hand in the cookie jar, we'll no longer be able to say, "The Devil made me do it."

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Officials call for UFO Probe

When I saw this headline yesterday  Former pilots, officials call for UFO probe,  I was pretty amazed.  (see article at the botton of this post).

I'm one of those crazy people, I suppose, that absolutely whole-heartedly believes that there must be life on other planets.  It's a big universe, folks.  And if that life has been around, oh say, another two hundred years longer than we have, it is very possible that they have the technology to visit other planets. Why not?  Imagine showing your personal computer to a cave man.  Intelligent life evolves and one of the fruits of evolution is technology.  

And I'm smart enough to know that we humans aren't as smart as we think we are.  We're still unlocking the secrets of the immune system, still putting pedophiles in jail, making bombs and using gasoline.   In universal terms, we're in kindergarten.   Nothing amuses me more than to hear someone say with the utmost of confidence that we must be the only life in the universe.   Kindergarten kids don't know anything for sure, do they?  My grandmother still marvels that she has indoor plumbing and electricity. 

Beyond the obvious, there are just too many competent people coming to the fore who say they have seen a UFO including Presidents Jimmy Carter and Ronald Reagan, astronaut Buzz Aldrin, high ranking officials in all the armed forces, politicians and scores of others, including people that I personally know and respect.  And many, many people have stepped forward to admit that they were involved in projects and incidents which the government has covered up.  In fact, some of these people voluntarily attended a press conference several years ago to discuss their roles in the cover up.  Their names?

• Merle Shane McDow: US Navy Atlantic Command
• Lt. Col. Charles Brown: US Air Force (Ret.)
• Lance Corporal Jonathan Weygandt: US Marine Corps
• Maj. George A. Filer, III: US Air Force (Ret.)
• Nick Pope: British Ministry of Defense Official
• Larry Warren: US Air Force, Security Officer
• Sgt. Clifford Stone: US Army
• Master Sgt. Dan Morris: US Air Force, NRO Operative
• A.H.: Boeing Aerospace Employee
• Officer Alan Godfrey: British Police
• Sgt. Karl Wolf: US Air Force
• Ms. Donna Hare: NASA Employee
• Mr. John Maynard: DIA Official
• Dr. Robert Wood: McDonnell Douglas Aerospace Engineer
  

This is not a complete list of those men and women who were brave enough to come forward that day. The media virtually ignored this event, although their live testimony is accessible on the Internet.   You have to give these Boeing Aerospace engineers and Master Sergeants credit for saying anything in this climate of humiliation that exists when anyone even mentions the word UFO. 

A majority of Americans believe that life exists on other planets and that the government is trying to cover something up.  I think what they're trying to say is this:  It's a lot easier to believe that there is life on other planets than it is to believe our government always tells us the truth. 

The $64,000 question is why--if there are intelligent races swooping down to check us out--then why don't they do something that will definitively categorize them as real, something as simple as hanging out over the White House? 

My answer to that is why would they?  Would you want to come and make friends with a planet where wars are being fought all over the globe, where life-destroying bombs are hunkered down in silos beneath the earth, where humans are still---century after century--arguing over which god is the right god?   If their technology is so advanced that they've conquered intergalactic travel, they've obviously learned to get along with one another because they didn't blow themselves up.  There has been peace on their planet long enough for their technology to evolve.  

There is truly nothing more dangerous than a planet that is advanced enough to destroy itself but still unenlightened enough to be destroying one another.  Technology in the hands of those who haven't learned to respect the gift of life is a dangerous thing indeed.  There's no disputing that our technology has outpaced our spiritual evolution.  If that doesn't answer the $64,000 question, then all you need do is look around at the state of our earth to understand why another race of people might not want to be our friends.  At least not yet. 

We must be an interesting planet to study, what with all our problems and pains.  Imagine looking down and watching thousands of people in a football stadium in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, hungry and ragged.  Imagine peering into a prison, a mental hospital, or a war zone and taking in the enormous suffering that is contained on our planet.  Observation might seem the best thing for the moment.  Observation over contact. 

Often enough, reports of UFO's trickle through the press, but it's rarely the mainstream press reporting.  You have to dig through the endless stream of negativity, Hollywood gossip, and political meandering to find the sound reporting on the UFO phenomenon. 

If anyone has come to the fore to expose this issue, it is Dr. Steven Greer, emergency room doctor turned UFO rabble rouser.  He is the one who called the press conference in our nation's capitol with dozens of competent and high ranking eye witnesses in tow to share their stories with the press----the conference that none of the mainstream press attended.  In the past few years, countries like England, France, Brazil and Ireland have opened up their UFO files.  In 2005, Brazil even initiated their own government committee to study the UFO issue.

Our country's closest equivalent is Dr. Greer, but he is often ridiculed and shut out of the press.  Greer sent out a press release today in light of the above referenced article published yesterday.  If you open up your mind, you may find some of his points compelling.  If you'd like to watch the eye witness testimony from those high ranking government officials yourself, visit http://www.disclosureproject.org/.   Here is the press release Greer has dispatched:

INSIDERS EXPOSE REASONS FOR UFO SECRECY

Disclosure Project Director Dr. Steven M. Greer reports that government insiders have revealed the existence of a shadowy, highly classified program related to UFOs.

The reasons for the secrecy are simple:  The inertia of highly classified programs, embarrassment over past illegal actions taken to enforce secrecy, and the fact that the energy and propulsion systems behind the mysterious UFO objects have been studied and fully understood. This disclosure would spell the end for oil, gas, coal and other conventional forms of power - and with that, the end of the current oil-based geopolitical order and economy. The truth is our tax dollars have been used to investigate this matter for decades and it is time for a dividend on that investment. The full disclosure of the facts will enable humanity to attain a sustainable civilization without global warming or the need for oil.

Recent calls for a US government investigation into UFOs have not taken into account the fact that such investigations are on-going, highly compartmented and top-secret.

Dr. Greer states, "As early as 1993, when I personally briefed CIA Director James Woolsey on the UFO matter, we knew of on-going, secret projects to which President Clinton and Mr. Woolsey were denied access.  The senior counsel for the Senate Appropriations Committee, then headed by Senator Byrd (D-WV) told me directly that upwards of $100 billion per year was going into so-called 'black' projects, including UFO programs, but that with a top-secret clearance and a subpoena power, he could not penetrate the veil of secrecy."

Subsequently, working with philanthropist Laurence Rockefeller, Dr. Greer provided in-depth briefing materials for President Clinton and Hillary Clinton, who reviewed the matter while staying at the Rockefeller's JY Ranch. (The briefing materials are at www.DisclosureProject.org).

Dr. Greer reports that "The Clinton's refused further disclosure of the matter. CIA Director Woolsey frankly stated that they could not disclose programs over which they had no control or access.  Mr. Woolsey and the Clintons were shaken by the secrecy, and the power behind it."

Since then, The Disclosure Project has uncovered thousands of official US documents and top-secret military and corporate witnesses to programs dealing with UFOs, including project code names and numbers.  Such operations are rogue and are beyond the scope of Congressional oversight committees.  

Note: The two paragraphs referring to Laurence Rockefeller and to Bill and Hillary Clinton had to be removed from this press release when we sent it out through our press release service - PRNewswire.com, because they refused to send out the original press release with those references.  It was referred up  the chain of command at their organization and censored by them. When you think that we have a free press, think again. This was not even censored by the outlets themselves, but by the entry point to those outlets!

And here is the article making headlines yesterday:

Former pilots, officials call for UFO probe

Tue Nov 13, 9:57 AM ET

WASHINGTON (Reuters) - Democratic U.S. presidential hopeful Dennis Kucinich may have been ridiculed for saying he had seen a UFO, but for some former military pilots and other observers, unidentified flying objects are no laughing matter.

An international panel of two dozen former pilots and government officials called on the U.S. government Monday to reopen its generation-old UFO investigation as a matter of safety and security given continuing reports about flying discs, glowing spheres and other strange sightings.

"Especially after the attacks of 9/11, it is no longer satisfactory to ignore radar returns ... which cannot be associated with performances of existing aircraft and helicopters," they said in a statement released at a news conference.  ... Reuters

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A Compilation of Cape Cod Thoughts

A Compilation of Cape Cod Thoughts

Warming Whispers

While I try to remain apolitical about global warming, there are moments of reality that call for my attention. 

Today I went outside in my bare feet to weed the garden.  (Sometimes as I'm passing by my flower beds, I'll lean down and pull a few weeds out whether I came outside to do it or not.)  A honey bee buzzed by and landed on my flowering purple lavender.   I clipped a bouquet of roses as a daddy long legs crossed over my toe and a grasshopper hopped along down the sidewalk.  My dog panted on the farmer's porch.  Daisies sprouted yellow. 

These are whispered messages I listen for in May.   But here, in November, my ivy geraniums grow past the front porch rail in the window box. 

Cape Cod Crash Course

In the fall, I have the great privilege of escorting breathless travelers throughout New England to observe the changing leaves and to shop along the windswept streets of New England's towns and commons.

This year, the last leg of our tour brought us to Cape Cod, where I was embarrassingly aware of the horrible drivers we have zipping around our rural roads.  After three days of crazy drivers cutting off our tour bus, pulling out in front of us, and behaving in all manner of drivus-horriblus-- one woman turned to me and said, "Aren't you just terrified to let your kids drive around here?" 

Well, yes, as a matter of fact I am.  Especially now, that I have three young drivers on the road.  They're all doing quite well with their parallel parking, three point turns and highway passing---it's everyone else I'm worried about.  In order to survive around here, you have to be prepared to save your own life when you're behind the wheel.  A constant vigilance must be maintained if you're going to have any chance at all of getting home safely.  The number of fatalities we have around here is horrifying.  

What the hell is going on anyway? 

Are our drivers finally proving that Cape Codders are so isolated, so removed from the real world, that our own "style" of driving has invaded our common sense and decency?  Do we now have our own rules and modes of behavior, like the removed-from-the-world contestants on Survivor?  

Here's my favorite offense, one I'm certain you are familiar with: 

You are driving down a main thoroughfare, let's say Route 28, and you see a car approaching from a side street.  You are certain he knows you're there because he slams on his brakes at the very last second, his front end sticking out into traffic.  You try to make eye contact with him---(the best way, I tell my children, to communicate in such situations), but it's too late.  He pulls out in front of you, even though a quick check in your rear view mirror confirms there is no one behind you for eight miles. 

Listen folks.  If someone has to slam on their brakes because you want to pull out from a side street, then you shouldn't have pulled out.  The drivers on the main road have the right of way.  It's just common sense.  Oh, yes. You may have to wait a few minutes until it is safe to go.  But take a chill pill.  Relax.  You won't be eating dinner or getting married in your car.  There will come a time when it is safe to pull out, I promise. 

I've become a honker.  If you see a woman in a blue Volvo wagon honking her horn, it is probably me.  Becoming a honker ( a road disciplinarian, if you will) subjects me to all manner of rude gestures and obscenities.  In fact, in just the past two days, I have been given the middle finger a total of four times.  The last woman to do it almost ran me over driving 50 miles per hour in the Marshall's parking lot.  I, of course, honked after she almost took my front end off.  When she pulled up beside me to do the nasty deed (the middle finger), I noticed a little girl buckled in the back seat.  A real class act. 

On the tour bus, I was embarrassed for Cape Cod.  Here we were, driving about in the sleepy little hamlets that are our windswept towns, sea grass waving in the wind, sleepy little churches clanging with their  tall white steeples, and offered as a stark dichotomy to this sweet little scene was the rude and scary raceways that are our roads.       

When the wind blows, where do you go? 

Certainly not to take away from the great job Cape Cod Today did during our recent hurricane, what with their hourly updates on the worst of days...but seriously....aren't we in need of some sort of media clearing house for information when we have regional emergencies?   During my reporting days at WQRC, people often turned to the station during weather emergencies, but it had to be a real emergency for anyone to stay on air.  Reporters leave there at 6:00 PM and don't often return until 5:00 in the morning.  Sundays?  No reporters there at all.  What you hear is canned news digitally rerun throughout the night.  I haven't worked there in years and since I am away quite a bit,  I don't regularly listen to the station anymore. 

When our power went out for almost three days last weekend and I was no longer able to access the Internet, we felt out of touch.  In a pinch, I called the Cape Cod Times news desk one night to see why we were still in the dark, and quite frankly, they had nothing to tell me.  Nothing.  

I'm not talking about the kind of clearing house that hands out information at their leisure, but a real and dependable outlet that everyone knows they can turn to---that is, quite frankly, designated for this purpose and has a civic responsibility to do so.  And the kind of information I'm looking for isn't how many of my neighbors are without power, but real information, like why it's taking so long to get the power on, the closest shelter to my house, if the bridge is open or closed, which grocery stores are up and running, which roads are closed-----and I want updates every hour. 

God forbid we have a real hurricane anytime soon.

Who ya gonna call when we do?                                          

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Not charmed by the Cape's antiquity

I told NStar they could come over and vacuum for me

I've lived on the Cape long enough to know how it goes----if your neighbor sneezes the power goes out and it won't go back on until NStar stops by to wipe her nose.  It's been fifteen years of resetting clocks and putting off laundry and reprogramming the television set and until today, I've just considered it another unusual by-product of living on Cape Cod.  

But today is the last straw.  

I had a million things to do this morning.  My daughter is graduating from high school and a flock of family will soon be arriving on my door step.  If I ever needed my washing machine it's today.  And my power outlets?  We are not speaking terms.   

 This isn't your usual power outage, it's a scene right out of a horror flick.  The power has gone off and on at least fifty times, and the twentieth time my dryer blewThe woman who answered the phone today at NStar must think I'm nuts.  I told her she could come over and vacuum for me later.  We certainly pay enough for the blessing of electricity and today, I'm not getting my money's worth.  At least she could do is come over and help me make up for lost time.   She can make the brownies while I vacuum.

 This isn't your usual power outage, it's a scene right out of a horror flick.  The power has gone off and on at least fifty times, and the twentieth time my dryer blew.  You think NStar will take me to Sears for a new one? Will they come over and reset the clocks in my house, restore the volume on my flat screen TV?  Teach me how to reprogram our new alarm system?   

If we took half the energy we are giving to the wind farm we could solve some real problems here--problems that should be long gone---like updating the Cape's antiquated infrastructure.  Here we are waving the flags to thousands of new residents coming over the bridge in droves and we can't even promise them their alarm clock will go off in the morning.  

I'm off to set up the old clothesline in the backyard.  But before I go consider this:  I think it's great that we are trying to retain what's charming about olde Cape Cod.   But there are days that living in the 19th century loses its appeal.   Today is one of them.          

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Two Cape Cods: Hidden Poverty

tressed Out: Single Parenting
According to a survey conducted by Barnstable County last year, 80% of the most needy households on the Cape wrestle with stress and anxiety. More

Youth Flight
If the next generation of teachers, nurses, and firefighters can't make the Cape their home, then who will serve and take care of the people who can? More

Elderly Poverty
The ever-rising costs of living means that for a growing number of seniors, retirement has not been the life of leisure they may have expected. More

Homeless
Shelters housed more than 500 homeless people last year. But untold others live on friends' couches, in motel rooms, and in tents in the woods. More

Wampanoag
Of the 350 Wampanoag living in Mashpee today, 90% live from paycheck to paycheck, undeniably poor. More

Empty Nets
Cape Cod, a land named for its bounty of fish, doesn't have many commercial fishermen left. More

Moving out: The Winter Rental Shuffle
With off-season rental-housing prices skyrocketing, where are the working poor expected to look for shelter? More

Lack of Mass Transit
Without reliable public transportation, working poor cannot access the job opportunities and public services they so direly need. More

Foster Care: Aging Out
More than 250 children live in foster care. When these children leave state custody, more and more are winding up on the streets. More

Childcare: Sea Babies
Struggling families must choose between spending $300 a week on childcare and forgoing a paycheck to stay home. More

Martha's Vineyard
Much of the world knows Martha's Vineyard as a rich person's playground, but many locals are struggling to find adequate food and shelter. More

1: Meals on Wheels
2: Habitat for Humanity

Workforce Housing
With a median home price of $1.6 million, many in the Nantucket workforce will never be able to live where they work. More

The Road Ahead
Series Conclusion
If living the American Dream means getting married, buying a house, and raising a family, Cape Cod may not be a viable option for future.

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Tourism: We Can Do Better

Cape Cod needs a lesson in Tourism 101
Insulting your guests and customers is truly a no-no

Yesterday my husband and I decided to head to Hyannis and enjoy an afternoon walking Main Street.  It was Memorial Day and neither one of us had been there in years, as, until now, there seemed to be no reason to visit.  But we'd been reading about its renaissance in the papers, and my job as a tour guide had taken me by some of its newer restaurants and shops in the past few weeks. We wanted to have lunch there and visit a museum or two, so we set off in our shorts and shades.

I am here to report that the state of tourism on Cape Cod hasn't changed at all.     

I recall a Boston Globe article written less than ten years ago by one of our State Representatives who had spent a weekend on the Cape.  The article was bitter as he recalled a weekend of horrible food, backed up bridges and rude salespeople.  His family had been chased out of a restaurant for using their restrooms--the only one they could find.  He vowed his days of visiting Cape Cod were over.  I wonder if he kept his word.  

 Our first stop was the JFK Museum.  It was after 11:00 and a group of tourists were waiting out front for the doors to open.  After a few moments of standing around, someone did indeed open the doors and we shuffled in to buy our tickets.  The museum was empty and there was no one at the ticket booth.  Six or seven of us were gathered in the lobby just inside the door, kind of looking around and waiting for direction.   

After five minutes a woman came from around a corner, a look of absolute disgust on her face.  

"What are you all doing in here?" she yelled.  

 Someone in the group volunteered that the door had been opened for us and no one had complained when we had all shuffled through.  

"I highly doubt that anyone opened the door for you, as I am the only one here and I certainly did not open the door!  Now, the museum doesn't open until noon and I want you to leave right now."  

In effect, she was accusing us of breaking into the museum uninvited, and since I'm certain no one there was brandishing a crowbar, I had a hard time understanding how she had connected those dots.  I expected her to give us all a time out in the corner. 

As a representative of the tourism industry, I also know that insulting your guests and customers is truly a no-no and no matter their transgressions, politeness is the operative word.  

We left, and we didn't go back at noon.  And neither, I'm sure, did any of the other members of our group.  

Instead we spent some time visiting some of the tourist shops on Main Street, and while there has been some improvement over the years, most of the merchandise was beyond tacky.  I didn't see anyone grabbing a plastic statue of an obese woman in a bathing suit (with the inscription "My Husband Thinks I'm Cute") running up to the cash register to bag her Cape Cod treasure.  Listen, I've traveled the world enough to know there are tacky gift shops everywhere, but we can do better than that.  We've got seashells and handmade baskets from Nantucket and jewelry and sea glass and pottery and little wooden sailboats that can really be sailed in a pond.  

We had lunch at one of the Hyannis Harbor restaurants and immediately wished we hadn't.  

For $50, which included one cold beer each, we were treated to an abomination of a meal---the typical tourist fare, consisting of  gummy seafood with a handful of soggy breadcrumbs thrown on top.  Our baked potatoes were shriveled up and cold and the only good thing about the meal--the coleslaw--came in a miniscule plastic cup with three tiny teaspoons of the stuff. Our waitress was nonchalant, harried and rude.   As we left the restaurant, a woman pulled up in her car and shouted out to someone in the parking lot that the bridge was backed up for miles and miles.  Welcome to our humble land.  

Listen up, Cape Cod.  The world has evolved, gone on its merry way.  Everyone is traveling now--and not just to Cape Cod but to the far reaches of the earth.  The places that want to attract the savvy tourist and their dollars have gotten their acts together.  People want decent food for their money, they expect decent service and a smile when they walk in the door.  Tourists don't have to come here---there's a million other seaside towns in the world and unless we learn how to treat our visitors, they're going to start spreading the news that the Cape isn't the place to park your suitcase.  

It's time to let those tacky tourist lobster shacks know that breadcrumbs are nice, but there's other ways to prepare seafood.  And if someone is going to spend $50 on a simple lunch, maybe they deserve something more than a plastic fork.  This is a generation of travelers that's been watching the Food Network.  At home. our tourists have been sauteing shrimp with tequila and lime and experimenting with braised short ribs in their own kitchens.  Travelers are more sophisticated than they ever were---just turn on the Travel Channel if you don't believe me.  Food has evolved, ladies and gentleman, and so has the tourism industry.  Tourism is competition.  When a region adopts the cultural attitude that the tourist is lucky to even be allowed over the bridge, they are no longer competing. 

I'm not going to be sold the line that our regional cuisine, that the items in the gifts shops are what the tourists want.  In my opinion, that's just what they get.  The truth is--- we can do better.  You can put that entree on a better plate, you can throw on a really good baked potato (that's not hard to do) and you can offer enough coleslaw to make it worth their while.   That's a $25 dollar lunch. Oh, and you can have the waitress smile when she comes to the table.  She can welcome them to their humble establishment.  That's a $30 lunch.  

This summer, I am working a job that requires me to hang out with tourists all day long.  I'm tired of the sad stories.  I've talked to tourists from Pennsylvania, California and Georgia who are disgruntled by soggy meals, rude salespeople and Cape Codders who make it clear they don't like "outsiders" trespassing over the bridge.  They often ask me for recommendations on where to eat, what to do, and where to do it.    So, I'd like to make myself perfectly clear.  I can name two places right now that I'll never send them.  In fact, I can only think of a handful of places that I can honestly recommend.  If you're charging $25 for a perfectly terrible lunch, you're not on my list.  If you have the sort of waitresses that make it clear they'd rather be at the beach, then you're not on my list either.   And if you're the sort of museum representative who would rather scream at a few confused visitors rather than politely show them to the door, you can be sure I won't be sending them to your establishment.

I am tired of rude people.  They're everywhere.  Last week, I watched as a local man bolted from his car in a supermarket parking lot and screamed at a visitor who had cut him off while he was trying to park.  Everyone in the parking lot stopped and stared, their mouths open in astonishment.  Half of them were visitors buying their corn and hamburger buns for the weekend.  I'm familiar with the cultural story of how Cape Codders--- and New Englanders in general--were suspicious of new comers.  In the early days of our history, they'd make newcomers live a mile outside of town for a year until they'd checked them out.  But that was 400 years ago.  Let's let some light shine here in this part of the world.  Let's join the brigade of people who are trying to make the world a nicer place.  Really, a little generosity goes a long way.  Welcome a new neighbor by going next door and introducing yourself.  Throw a little more coleslaw on the dinner plates. Smile at the tourist in his striped shorts and give directions with enthusiasm.  And if you think I'm being sanctimonious, ask anyone who has moved to Cape Cod in the last year how welcome they feel.  Ask them how many friends they've made, ask them how many people came by and said hello when the moving van pulled up in their driveway.   

Each and everyone of us who comes in contact with a visitor, whether you're serving their dinner, giving them directions or cleaning their hotels rooms--you are a representative of our home.  You are defining for them who we are as a people.  Much as some of us hate the summer crowds, abhor the long lines and the traffic jams, tourism is an important part of our economy.  If we can offer more than plastic forks, disgruntled waitresses and stern lectures at the museum door, then we'll be doing better.   

 Even so, we still have a long way to go.              

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I really hope you like me! Touring New York

I'm a tour guide, an overrated, medium-on-the-pay scale-position, a job that I mostly love but one that continually teaches me that the biggest lessons in life are really quite mundane and repetitive.  Take for instance the life lesson we've all learned by now: Not everyone is going to like you.  

Once I took a troupe of Nebraskans to New York City, a place that not one of the 40 people in the group had ever been.  Hell, most of them had never  been out of Nebraska.  One woman in the group came from a town the size of fourteen.  New York is the kind of place that eats you up and spits you out in the course of one weekend and these people came ready to be chewed.  I immediately gave them credit for being there.  

The men wore tall trucker hats with logos like "Bob's Grille," and "Last Stop Truck Stop."  When we went to dine at Tavern On The Green in Central Park, I had to remind them not to wear their hats that afternoon and to ditch the jeans and flannel shirts.  They looked rather nice, all these tall drinks of water shuffling into one of New York's most beloved dining establishments with their cowboy boots and their dress shirts on-- a bit too short in the sleeves.  The ladies wore dresses they'd probably worn ten years ago to the Ladies Auxiliary Luncheon, but nonetheless, I thought they looked lovely and they were my group, those stuffy New Yorker's be damned.  

 If you could have seen the looks on the faces of the Donald Trumps of the world as we came in---all but choking on their lobster bisques and fillets of beef.  Evidentially, they'd never seen any real people from Nebraska before and this was confirmation, that yes, Nebraska is a real state harboring real people.  I'm a bit of a rebel myself and I stared right back at them, as if to say, "Your money doesn't negate their humanness." Once I convinced them that the menu was not written in Chinese, and this was in fact real food being offered, they managed to find some things on the menu they liked, mostly beef, no bisques or comfits.  Desserts are universal and went over well. 

  After they changed clothes, we went to Central Park where I was prepared to let them loose on their own.  They'd get four hours to walk around the park or explore Fifth Avenue, a shopper's paradise, a hiker's dream or an explorer's fix.  I stood on a bench above them, explaining the cab and subway system, warning them to watch the time, giving suggestions for shopping or little nooks to explore in the park.  

 "Okay," I said, climbing down from the bench, "Go forth and prosper!"   

 Not one of them moved.   

 "Any questions?" I asked.    No one asked a question. 

They just stood there, looking at me.  

"So, you're just plain scared?" I asked.  

It took a while, but I eventually convinced a few couples to mosey along and enjoy this partly cloudy day in the middle of one of the most exciting cities in the world.  But most of them sat on the park bench with me, waiting for the hours to pass.  

Until it started raining. 

   Oh, yes.  It started raining buckets, and luckily I had enough pages of the New York Times to use as temporary umbrellas.  The problem was we had three hours to go and no place to wait out the rain.  The only public place within absolute running distance was the Trump Tower, which allows the public to come in from the streets and buy, say, a $6,000 necklace at their jewelry store or purchase a $15 martini at their bar.  Personally, I think they should have a sign on their door that says, "Public welcome, but there's truly only a certain portion of the public that we like."   

I had no choice.  There was a woman in a wheelchair getting soaked and she and I sprinted to the front of our Nebraskan line to head for The Donald's office.  It was raining cats and dogs by this time and I insisted that we had to slowly run down Fifth Avenue to save ourselves from the croup.  As long as I shall live, I will never forget that sprint.   You don't see wheelchairs on Fifth Avenue in New York.  It is a walker's city.  It is a city for the mobile, the high-heeled and the well-heeled.  You don't see little blondes pushing a wheelchair while running down Fifth, 30 tall Nebraskan's in tow, donning trucker hats and wool coats with the hair of the cow still clinging.  You just don't see it.  

 The doorman at Trump Tower looked mortified as we dashed into the lobby, where we'd remain for the better half of three hours.  He couldn't really throw us out but he did his best to let us know he'd never had the likes of us camping out in Donald's digs for the day.   

 What a literal splash we made in New York that afternoon.  The best part is this:  No one in that group even noticed the indignant stares, the holier-than-thou attitudes of their New York brethren who all seemed to believe they are honored tenants on Mrs. Astor's 400 list of New York aristocracy.  These Nebraskans don't live in a place where real classism exists and so they have no neural nets for judgement.  They just didn't see the looks because they weren't looking for them. 

  I guess it's safe to say that the Nebraskans on the tour kind of loved me.  After all, I'd been their savior in a downpour, I'd guided them through the menu at elite dining establishments and I'd stared down snobbish New Yorkers in their honor.  I'd even pointed out Jerry Springer on a street corner.  And how could they ever forget me sprinting down Fifth Avenue at 20 miles per mile, pushing that wonderful old woman with the New York Times Metro section over her head? 

  But would they remember that my 120-pound body had carried 550 pounds of suitcases up the stairs when the bell captain hadn't shown up?   Would they forever reminisce about the way I chided the hotel chef into making 20 pounds of pork sausage when meat wasn't offered on the breakfast menu?  (Come on, they're from Nebraska, I said.)  

 On the way back to our hotel that day, after picnicking in Donald's lobby with Lay's potato chips and ginger ale for several hours, I had to pass out my review slips.  These are the dreaded slips every tour guide hates, the one that allows your passengers to decide whether you will ever work again. The slips question your passengers on every manner of your being, including how nicely you dress, how well you speak, how well you know the city you've been showing them and whether or not your heroics, expected of every tour guide everywhere, were valiant enough to qualify you for the Superman Hall of Fame.   I've grown weary of these reviews, having concluded long ago that you can't please everyone all of the time. 

   After explaining what the reviews are for, I got into a discussion with my passengers about foreigner's thoughts about America.  

 "They think America is one big city," I said, showing off my savvy travel knowledge.  "But it's not, as you know!  I once drove across the country by myself and it's really nothing but farm land!  Just huge farms, one right after the other!"  

 Dead silence.  I may as well have insulted all of their grandmothers.  

 "Excuse me?" asked one particularly tall gentleman from the back of the bus. "JUST farms?  I don't consider myself to be JUST a farmer."  

 The review slips were curdling right before my very eyes, as if the great hand of fate was right there on the bus with a big Bic pen, checking off "Tour Guide Bites" on every hot questionnaire.  

 Oh,hell, I thought, I'm sitting here soaked and tired and you're going to get me on semantics?  

 You betcha.  When the reviews came back, I received very high ratings from all my passengers except one.  Someone had checked off "poor" in every single category on the slip, even the one asking how nicely I dressed.  At the bottom, the person had written,  She was JUST okay.  

Generally, tour companies interpret such inequity the way it should be interpreted---someone was disgruntled.  If everyone liked you and one person didn't, you aren't going to be fired, unless of course, you called the person some sort of horrible name.  

 The sad thing is---and this is human nature---I'll remember that bad review for the rest of my life.  Never mind that 39 other passengers gave me wonderful scores and that the tour company congratulated me on such a wonderful trip----it's the farmer I'll remember for eternity.  

 The next time I got a bad review, I'm sure it was from a young woman on my tour who had a crush on the bus driver.  She seemed a bit peeved that he paid more attention to me than he did to her and only because he is supposed to.  We have to be chronic communicators on tour, going over directions, luggage problems and a host of other minute and laborious details.   She, too, thought I was just okay.  Those California girls.  I just can't figure them out.  

 In a job where being liked is job assuring, where tying a silk scarf around your neck can determine whether you will ever work again, and the word  just can give you nightmares, I sometimes wonder why I sign up for the next tour.  I have to stand in the aisles of a charter bus, much like the stage at the Academy Awards and hope to exclaim at the end of the tour, as Sally Fields once did, "You like me!  You really like me!"    

  I think we are all surprised as humans when people do like us.  

And then shamefully saddened when they don't.      

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Does a bullied student bully back?

Bullying affects 30% of U.S. students 

Absent from the talking head's rampant discussion on Virginia Tech's recent tragedy is the sad truth about bullying and the real sense of isolation so many people feel in this opportunistic and consumer-driven world.

I make no excuses for the shooter. But his actions beg us to consider the ramifications of isolation, of bullying and of poor mental health.

Thirty percent of U.S. Students in grades six through ten say they are involved in bullying--as bullies, as victims, or as both, according to the results of the first national survey on this subject.  Bullying is an important contributor to youth violence, including homicide and suicide.  Case studies of the shooting at Colombine High School and other U.S. schools have suggested that bullying was a factor in many of the incidents.   Recent statistics show that 1 out of 4 kids is bullied. Some are afraid to go to school, and 8% of them stay home out of fear.   

The art of bullying is older than the tin pencil boxes we used to take to school, and the dismal failure of new awareness campaigns points to its continued strong hold in our classrooms and in our rather heartless society. We've come to accept bullying as a rite of passage in childhood.  When gauging how enlightened a society is, one need only look at the way it treats its members.  We live in a world that refuses to respect the differences amongst its peoples, where being "different" is punishable.

  Here's one of the many ways I taught my own children to be tolerant:  When they'd come home from play or school and tell me that someone was being bullied, I'd invited that child to dinner.  Simple act.  Huge lessons.   We made cookies for a neighbor child who'd had a bad day.  One time, I woke up to hear a child crying at the bus stop across the street, and I got up and drove him to school.  We had a nice talk on the way there and I told him he was special before he got out of the car.  Simple act.  Huge consequences.    Learning tolerance, developing empathy, accepting differences---these things are first studied at home.   

 I was bullied in fourth grade.  There was a kid in my grade school who never liked me.  He told me I looked like a monkey. He formed a club against me---an entire club that met in the coatroom. This kid came from an extremely successful family in terms of material comforts, but apparently empathy wasn't on the family resume.  This kid actually went on to become a big wig.  He went to Brown, became the right hand man for a huge media mogul and hung out with John F. Kennedy Jr. back in the day.   

The bullying went on well into the 6th grade when I finally punched him in the nose and made him bleed.  It had been two years of hell and I couldn't take it anymore.  He went home and told on me and his mother called mine.  I was punished--it was only right--but secretly I wondered if my mother felt I had been justified.  

The sort of bullying I endured was peanuts compared to what other kids go through.  Consider this:  

In April 1998, Brian Franklish died while trying to escape the children bullying him.

Twelve-year-old Debbie Shaw agrees to a challenge by other girls to end her bullying and victimization by fighting the school bully. She died of her injuries.

Thirteen-year-old Roger Hillyard found dead near his home after a lifetime of bullying.

Sisters Samantha and Michaela Kendal are so taunted and bullied about their being overweight that they went on a hunger strike ... both died.

Fifteen-year-old choirboy Darren Steele is found hanged in his bedroom after a life of bullying and victimization at school.

Twelve-year-old schoolboy Stephen Woodhall hanged himself with his brother's school tie rather than face bullying for another day. "He must have been going through hell," his father, Ken, said. Later, forty-seven-year-old Kenneth Woodhall also hanged himself. He had never got over the hanging suicide five years earlier of his son Stephen.

Really.  Do an Internet search.  The horrid examples go on and on.

Cho Seung-Hui, the Virginia Tech shooter was picked on. He was tormented and bullied throughout his life.  There's no excuse for his retribution.  But if we don't learn something by his actions, then history is doomed to repeat itself.

I was always taught that change begins with me. We're not tiny people in a vast world.  They way we conduct ourselves, the way we treat others, the things we teach our children can create enormous change in the world.  I can't help but wonder if we are all at fault for such horrific events.  We don't live in a vacuum. 

We eagerly participate in the world and what we do, what we think---it matters, plain and simple.

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Lancaster murder and mitigating factors

Euphemism of the day: "Domestic Abuse"

I'm impressed by the Boston Globe's reporting on the Lancaster murder.   By early Monday, they were able to paint a more substantive picture of what may have happened Easter day on Coach Lane. 

   Today's Cape Cod Times article pointed out that the term "mitigating circumstances" is being tossed around a lot  (the Time's wryly called it "the euphemism of the day"), and noted that it is still "unclear" if those factors played a role in Sunday's shooting.   

True enough, but the picture of Gryboski standing bruised and battered at the courthouse yesterday paints a thousand words. "Euphemism of the day" or not, the picture is chilling and at the very least, asks us to entertain the thought that there may have been mitigating circumstances.  I thank the Times, though, for planting that seed of doubt, lest all of us armchair detectives jump to our own conclusions.  

Here's my euphemism of the day: "Domestic Abuse."  

It's only alleged in the Lancaster murder, but it's certain to bring the topic out from under the bed again.  And that's a good thing.  Domestic violence is a big problem on Cape Cod.   According to WGBH reporter Brian Morris, in a story he penned about the Clothesline Project,  "The Cape and Islands have the highest per-capita rate of domestic violence in Massachusetts, an alarming trend often fueled by substance abuse and the pressures of surviving in a volatile seasonal economy."   

We are reminded today that domestic violence occurs in all socio-economic groups, in all towns and in all neighborhoods.  It's an equal opportunity offender.    I once lived near a woman whom I merely suspected was being abused.  She was quiet and rather meek and her husband seemed aggressive.  I heard him yelling from across the  white picket fence on more than one occasion. Sometimes I wouldn't see his wife for weeks and the children were forbidden to play outside.  I tried to make contact with her when I'd see her at school from time to time, hoping to reach out and let her know she had a friend in her neighborhood, but that was all I felt comfortable doing.  I had no proof that her husband was abusing her and she certainly never walked out to her mailbox looking like Dr. Gryboski did yesterday.  

 I'm not surprised that Gryboski's neighbors aren't lining up to tell torrid stories about violent episodes they'd overheard in the house on Coach Lane--if, in fact, such abuse took place.  So what?  Do you honestly believe that domestic violence is advertised on a family's front stoop?  It's a shameful thing.  It's underground.  It's hidden.   

 And the old "Why didn't she go for help?" question is sure to pop up if the facts support Gryboski's claims.  Shame on you for asking.  We all know why women don't go for help.  We see it over and over again.  

"The question we should have for any abused woman," says Mary Starr, Executive Director for the Cape Cod Center for Women, "shouldn't be 'why didn't you go for help, but rather, why was she hit in the first place?'  Where's our sense of outrage?"  

Starr said she was listening to WXTK this morning on the way to work and the murder was the topic of the day.  She pointed to three or four calls made by male listeners who insisted that Lancaster was the nicest guy they'd ever met.   I say blah, blah, blah.  So was Ted Bundy when he wasn't bludgeoning someone to death.  Child molesters have candy in their pockets, too.

  Starr says no matter the outcome of the case, she's hoping that domestic violence takes center stage for a while.  Me too.  Let's interrupt our normally scheduled programming for this important report: Domestic abuse is a big problem on Cape Cod.  

Starr also hinted that the coordinator position for the county's domestic violence department may be on the chopping block next year.  It's a $10,000 a year position and we can't afford it.  

So, let's wait for the facts to emerge before jumping to conclusions and avoid the tendency to use "mitigating factors" in a rush to judgment.  That's only fair.   

But take another look at Dr. Gryboski's face in the paper today.  And be ever so cognizant that an awful lot of bad things happen around here, and by the hands of people whom to their neighbors seem "so nice."      

Fact: 1,200 calls were made to the Cape Cod Center for Women's hotline last year.  The women were calling to ask for help in domestic abuse matters.

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Mashpee--The New Rodeo Drive

I got the scoop on the Mashpee Commons today (and a few interesting tidbits on other Mashpee businesses) and there's a lot to be excited about--especially for those looking for an authentic and interesting shopping experience.  No longer a sleepy little outpost with a tiny little shoreline, Mashpee has been inching its way into sophistication for more than a decade and by the looks of things, it's only going to get better. 

The Commons has always shunned the strip mall mentality of its business brethren and its award winning architecture and sensitivity to history and environment make it a role model for other developers.   80% of its tenants are local Mom and Pops, with the remaining 20% reserved for national chain stores--something you don't see at a mall. 

According to John Renz, Vice President of the Mashpee Commons, the empty Star Market will get a badly needed facelift, and its space will be divided into smaller stores.  Work is slated to begin early next year, but in the meantime, we can look forward to an open air market this June in front of the old Star, featuring local produce and the work of regional artisans.  According to the proprietor's website  they'll be offering "only the best" in original art, handmade crafts and healthy edibles from New England's finest organic farmers, and you can even chat up an artist or a farmer or two while you're there.  These are the same folks who started the open-air market concept in the South End of Boston and its been a huge success--a Sunday destination for shoppers all over New England.  Opening day is slated for Friday, June 22nd, and will operate every Friday thereafter until October 19th.  I think it's the greatest thing to hit Cape Cod since Thoreau.  

Within the next few weeks, the Jade Restaurant at the Commons will be boasting a new name and a new menu.  Sushi will be the big draw at the Paper Moon which is great news for sushi lovers tired of taking a road trip for sashimi.   

Fans of Chef Ralph--Cape Cod's colorful gourmet-- will be happy to see his Mad Platter moving in next to Blockbuster.  He'll be serving up gourmet food for people on the run with some limited seating for those who want to eat in.   He'll also offer an extensive catering menu.  

If you miss the sweet Cafe De La Terre at the Commons, take heart.  Falmouth's Chapoquoit Grille owner John Reid, along with Susan Musto, have reinvented the short-lived wine bar and just opened the Tevi Cafe and Wine Bar in its place.  A new awning will cover part of the 60 feet of outdoor patio space located right next to the Commons'  fountain.  The outdoor seating is sure to lure to a crowd this summer and when you add a Mediterranean-style menu and an interesting but affordable wine list, you have the makings of a local favorite.  Lunch just started up this week with dinner soon to follow.

  If ever we needed your voice, now is the time.  Wouldn't it be great to have a Trader Joe's at the Commons?  According to Renz, they've been courting the popular grocery store chain, but Joe is reluctant to open a second store on the Cape too soon.   Great masses have been known to create great change, so if you have a minute, send them an email ---let them know you'll support them.  Here's the web address for their location request form.   

 Looks like the Mashpee Post Office will be leaving its little corner post next year.  It's been kind of cozy there for years now, giving the Commons a hometown feel.  But as the Commons'  grows, it's becoming harder to run in and mail  Aunt Bea her candy at Christmas.  They'll be moving to new digs next to the library, which, by the way, is expanding. Work on the new post office won't be completed until the end of 2008.  

Last but not least, Renz hinted that a popular women's retailer--(hint: clothes and shoes) is slated to move into the old Working Gear store, but the contracts aren't signed yet, so we'll have to wait and see.   

In other business news, Christmas has come a little early to Sandwich. The opening of Lamberts on Cotuit Road in the town's business district is a very nice addition to the neighborhood.  The new vegetable market is living in the old bones of a former breakfast place, and the wood floors and polished beams give it a decidedly European feel.  Fans of Lamberts know that they have great homemade soups and sandwiches along with some of the best produce around.  I bought a few strip steaks there last weekend and they tasted even better than they looked.    And, apparently, I'm not the only fan.  Business has been healthy since they opened, a testament to the fact that Cape Codder's are looking for a little variety.  We really don't mind paying a bit more to have a better shopping experience.   

Roche Bros. bars Panera Bread 

 I've been hearing rumors that Panera Bread was denied permission to move into the new shopping plaza in Mashpee, across the street from the Mashpee Commons, because Roche Brothers, the upscale grocery store, was worried about the competition in their bread department. 

I spoke with Mike Flaherty, a manager at Roche, and he flatly denied there was any truth to the rumor.  "We're just tenants here," he said, "and we have no control over who moves in."  He also added that having Panera in the neighborhood would be good for business, attracting more customers to the plaza, which has been somewhat slow in filling up its retail space. Panera seems to be undecided about a move to Mashpee, but the latest word is that they'll be selling sandwiches there once Phase III of construction is complete. 

Olympia Sports will be moving in as well----news that doesn't really thrill me.  I can drive to their stores in Falmouth or Hyannis for sneakers and lacrosse sticks. 

   The sort of businesses we attract to our neighborhoods is really an important matter, as their presence, in essence, defines who we are.  Inviting  local farmers to share their organic produce, sharing the world's diversity by introducing new cuisines--like Mediterranean fare--makes our lives richer and more substantive.  There's room for everyone---the Asian chef preparing sushi, the Portuguese baker with her bread, the small time farmer with his fresh tomatoes or crates of cranberries.  What's important is that we make room for them--along with the doughnut chains.  We have to inspire creativity, create a space for it and then support those new businesses with our patronage. 

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