The Opinionator

The Opinionator died peacefully in his sleep last Sunday

Editor's note: Dr. McCaffrey wrote a blog on CapeCodToday.com for several years under the pseudonym, the Opinionator.  He wrote over 250 columns or posts which you will find below. His contributions will be greatly missed.  Our prays are with his family. Below is his obituary.

Superintendent of Dennis Yarmouth Regional School District for 18 years
Blogged as The Opinionator since 2005

Michael Duff McCaffrey, 68, peacefully passed on to eternal life Sunday, March 22 , 2009.

Born in Lancaster, NH, he was a graduate of Lancaster High School and studied for his undergraduate degree at Saint Anselm College and the University of Ottawa. From 1963 – 1965, he served in the United States Army Infantry. He received his Masters in 1969 from the University of New Hampshire and his Doctorate in Education Administration from Boston University in 1974.

Doctor McCaffrey began his teaching career in 1965 in Groton, VT and his administrative work at Whitman Public Schools as Assistant Superintendent.

He was Superintendent for Rockport, MA Public Schools from 1978 to 1983 and
was named Superintendent of Dennis Yarmouth Regional School District in 1983 where he loyally served for 18 years.

Michael is survived by his beloved wife of 40 years, Donna E. (Gandin) McCaffrey, his five children and their spouses; Mary and George Lavoie of Yarmouth Port; Patrick and Kecia McCaffrey of South Dennis; Catherine and Sean Brewer of Marstons Mills; Elizabeth and Stephen Giordano of Eastchester, NY; and Melissa and Ross Brennan of Dennis; his two sisters, Susan Burrill of Wolcott, VT; Shannon Tibbitts of Wolfeboro, NH; twelve dearly loved grandchildren and several nieces and nephews.

He will always be remembered for his strong Catholic faith, his devotion to education and his unbounded love for his family.

Friends and family are invited to call at the Hallett Funeral Home, 273 Station Ave., South Yarmouth on Thursday, March 26 from 2-4 & 7-9 p.m. A Funeral Mass will be celebrated at 11 a.m. on Friday, March 27 at Saint Pius X Church, Station Ave., South Yarmouth. Burial will be in Woodside Cemetery in Yarmouth Port.

In lieu of flowers, contributions may be made in his memory to the Education Foundation for Dennis and Yarmouth Inc., P. O. Box 522, South Yarmouth, MA 02664 or to Lahey Clinic, c/o Ann Delier, 41 Mall Rd., Burlington, MA 01805.

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Franklin and Lucy

Franklin and Lucy
An intimate portrait of FDR and his relationship with women

IT has kind of been a hobby with me over the past 25 years to read every Roosevelt biography I can get my hands on. It doesn't matter whether it is Theodore or Franklin; it extends to their wives as well as their children. 

Lucy Page Mercer Rutherfurd (April 26, 1891-July 31, 1948) is considered by historians to have been a mistress of Franklin Delano Roosevelt. She was with Roosevelt on the day he died in 1945.

My bookshelves are full of Roosevelt books, my favorite being Theodore, our 26^th president and the most remarkable of men about whom I have already blogged. For me, studying the Roosevelts means studying 20^th Century American history, my favorite period, and an era which encompasses a large part of my life and the lives of my parents and grandparents.

This column is a review of a book I have recently finished about the women in the life of Franklin Roosevelt.  The citation is:

 Persico, Joseph E., Franklin and Lucy President Roosevelt, Mrs. Rutherford, and the Other Remarkable Women in His Life, New York: Random House, 2008.

Franklin Delano Roosevelt, our 32^nd president, had an unusual relationship with his wife Eleanor and, although they had six children, they lived basically apart for many years. Confined to a wheelchair because of polio since 1921, he had a propensity to build close, loving relationships with other women over the years although there is a huge absence of data that these relationships were physical ones.

 The beginning of the estrangement of Franklin and Eleanor began in 1918 when Eleanor discovered a cache of letters from Lucy Mercer, the social secretary to Eleanor revealing a romantic relationship between the two. At that time Eleanor extracted a promise from Franklin never again to see Lucy, something which he felt compelled to agree to because of his political career. 

The book offers an intimate portrait of Franklin D. Roosevelt, Mrs. Rutherford.

Additionally, his mother threatened to cut him off completely if he did not end the affair. Lucy Mercer went her separate way for a few years, married a rich man named Winthrop Rutherfurd, and maintained occasional contact with Franklin, sometimes even with the helping arrangements made by his daughter Anna.

Lucy Mercer Rutherfurd was with Franklin Roosevelt when he died by cerebral hemorrhage at his Warm Springs, Ga summer White House at the age of  63 in April of 1945.

 There were other women in the president's life. Marguerite 'Missy' Lehand, from Somerville, Ma. was the president's personal secretary for 21 years until her death in 1944.  She became Roosevelt's alter ego, devoting her life to him and seldom being out of his presence, whether on his bat or in the oval office. When cosidering the women in this comlex president's life, all lists must include his dmineering mother, Sarah Delano Roosevelt.

 Several chapters in the book consider the suspected homosexuality of Mrs. Roosevelt, particularly her relationship with journalist Lorena Hickck, an avowed lesbian. Nothing conclusive about the relationship has been revealed by the dozens of biographers of the First Lady.    

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The Czar and Tax Caps

The Czar and Tax Caps

 Every once in a while a word comes along that fits a situation correctly, and we seize on the word, use it a great deal, and in some situations even beat it to death.  One of these words is "czar."  It means emperor and comes to us via Russia, where the ruler of that country was the czar until 1917. The newspapers are full of stories about the "car czar" A few years ago we had a drug czar and we have also had an energy czar.

 When there is a problem begging to be solved, apparently it is human nature to focus on leadership and power in the person of one individual whom we hold accountable and to whom we ascribe great power to solve problems.  It just wouldn't sound right in a free society if we called these powerful individuals "emperors." We are a democracy and don't want any kings or emperors telling us what to do. Certainly "Fuhrer or Il Duce, for obvious reasons, would be out of line.  We seem to have settled on czar. It has a ring to it, comes from an ancient yet failed country, is short and snappy and even has a rhyming quality as in car czar. You can even spell it funny if you wish, using tsar or tzar to display a kind of erudition. Etymologists connect its ancestry to the German Kaiser, which started with the Roman Caesar or the Iranian  Shah.

 Another term that has powerful political utility is "tax cap."  If it had stayed as "Proposition 13" out of California in 1978, it probably would have gotten nowhere as a movement. When it came to Massachusetts two years later it had the name of "Proposition 2 ½ "   although that was the permissible increase, not the number of the ballot question. "Tax cap" became what it meant and everyone knew exactly what it meant.  Taxes were running away; they needed a strait jacket or a lid, something needed to be done to tell policy makers that there is just so much that people could take. Like an oil rig overflowing, like a volcano exploding, the eruption needed to be capped.

 And so we have learned to love the tax cap and to hate the override, which some hold to be a fiscal taboo, a mortal sin of the vilest and rankest type.  To some of the most zealous conservative politicians, an override to our sacred Proposition 2 ½ is at least as reprehensible as marrying your sister or going to church in drag. I think it can be amusing to read and watch selectmen wring their hands in despair as they consider overrides.  You'd think they were contemplating inviting the black plaque to come and reside in the community.  Many of them get poor marks for their less than vigorous efforts to convince ordinary people that some things might need to cost more than a 2 ½ percent increase a year. On the contrary, some of them pander right into the prevailing taboo. I guess they figure the worse thing in the world is not to get

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Farewell to All of Them

 Farewell to All of Them

 The year 2008 saw deaths of important people who helped define our culture.  Farewell to all of them:

 Bernie Mac (50), Michael DeBakey (99), Margaret Truman Daniel (83), Yves Saint Laurent (71), Cyd Charisse, (86), Jesse Helms (86), Paul Scofield (86), Sydney Polluck (73), Tim Russert (58), Arthur C. Clark (90). 

 Charleton Heston (74), Bobby Fischer (64), Heath Ledger (28), Studs Terkel (96),  W. Mark Felt (95), Tony Snow (53), Richard Blackwell (86).

 Hamilton Jordan (63), Estelle Getty (84), Steve Fossett (63), Paul Weyrich (66), Alexandr Solzhentsyn (89), Edmund Hillary(89), George Carlin (71).

 Isaac Hayes(65), Bettie Page (85), Paul Newman (83), William F. Buckley (83), Eartha Kitt (81), Van Johnson (92), Odetta Holmes (77) Suzanne Pleshette (70) Jess Cain (81).

 Richard Widmark (93) Don Gillis (85) Jim McKay (84) Alan Lupo (70) Madelyn Dunham (86) Cardinal Avery Dulles (90)

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Economics 101

Economics 101

Let's see if I get it.  We live in a free and capitalistic society where individual initiative and risk taking, coupled with an amount of luck, is how you become successful and get rich.  It's called free enterprise and its patron saint is the late Milton Friedman, and one vehicle through which his nostrums are promulgated is the Wall Street Journal. It's the American way, we know it and love it and the opposite is something like socialism or Communism.  If you doubt our way being the best, consider the fate of the former Soviet Union.

 I understand very little about economics. My eyes blur when I contemplate notions such as supply and demand. I never took an economics course in high school or college, but I  think I have an intuitive understanding of why some scholars refer to economics as "the dismal science." For me, unemployment is a word which precedes compensation.  If you lose your job the government will take care of you, or at least there is a chance it will. There is so much I don't get. I hear talk of  the Federal Reserve setting an interest rate approaching 0.  What's that all about?  You loan money to others whom you don't charge?  No wonder we are in trouble.

 My eyes glaze over contemplating the fraud of the financier Bernard Madoff who has stolen about 50 billion. A giant Ponzi scheme? What does that mean? One helpful quote about Ponzi schemes I picked up in the New York Times recently:

 "In a Ponzi scheme, not all investors lose.  The first investors gain much. Those who manage to get out in time retain their investments and some of their gains." - TAMAR FRANKEL, a law professor at Boston University on the Madoff scandal.

I heard a guy on TV the other day say that the banks have borrowed too much and are choking on their own debt.  Therefore they can't loan any more. Enter Uncle Sam who makes it easier for banks to loan money.  That's how it is supposed to work.

 With the recent melt down of the stock market along with the automobile industry, my sense is that we are staring down the barrel of an enormous gun which will blow at any minute. The basic question is whether the government should help out failing business enterprises. We can't help everyone; there is not enough money to go around.  So whom do we help?  The ones with the most lobbying influence?  The ones who could cause the most loss of jobs? The institutions which are most central to our culture?  No one at all? 

 It forces the nation to define its priorities.  Is the automotive industry as vital to our futures as the newspaper industry?  Is home foreclosure a bigger disaster than corporate bankruptcy?  Where do you draw the line about who to bail out and who to let fail?  I've read where the auto industry years ago resisted such innovations as rear view mirrors and seat belts.  That doesn't endear them to me, not does corporate charter flights of millionaire managers in a world where teachers and cops are earning about $50,000 a year.  How much does greed have to do with all the business problems today?  Are we going to support a situation where greed is rewarded?

 With no idea whatsoever about what to do, I will posit the following opinion: We can't do it all, but we probably need to do something.

 Perhaps we can help failing enterprises by suspending some of government's regulatory activities.  Yes, we can loan tax money to bail some of them out, but it should be offered with many strings attached and the emphasis must be on taking care of ordinary people who don't know greed, who work hard, and love our country.  That's my plan.  Help out a few, but understand that the breadline will be infinitely longer than we can afford. We need to face when to stop the handout.  I can trust elected officials to make the decisions about this, but I will watch their decisions closely and will use my vote and letter writing ability to try to smash the self enhancers and the greedy. I may even arrive at the point where the politician who can buy a second home or own a high performance automobile or boat may qualify as a greedy self-enhancer.

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Gabriel's Oboe

"Nella Fantasia"

Every once in a while I come upon a piece of music which will not ever leave me and of which I will never tire of hearing repeatedly.  Such a melody is "Gabriel's Oboe" composed by Ennio Morricone as part of the original score of the 1986 movie "The Mission."  Some know this music as the theme from that film and others know it by its Italian lyrics written by Chiara Ferrau, "Nella Fantasia." (In my fantasy.)

These eerie, beautiful and mysterious sounds are what you probably hear when you go to heaven.

I first heard its haunting strains when my family and I went to the movie "The Mission" 18 years ago.  I didn't visit it again for some years until I heard a version on a CD by Il Divo.  I was so struck with its beauty that I downloaded from I-tunes as many versions of it as I could find and burned a CD with dozens of renditions of the melody.  Then, I heard an oboist play it once at a church concert and felt at that time that these eerie, beautiful and mysterious sounds are what you probably hear when you go to heaven. Since then I have found versions of it by Sarah Brightman, the Celtic Women as well as dozens of clips on YouTube.

 It may be that almost everyone already knows this beautiful tune of which I speak.  It is perhaps naïve to blog about it to introduce this piece to people already acquainted with it. Nevertheless, I assume it must have eluded some. If you want to check it out, I suggest you go to YouTube and search for "Gabriel's Oboe," "Nella Fantasia" or "The Mission." There must be more than a hundred clips of it there.  Give it a try. (Below Ennio M0rricone conducts The Mission at the UN Headquarters in 2007.)

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We Say Merry Christmas

As I consider the joys of the season, I am drawn to think about the bumper sticker being promoted by Bill O'Reilly on "The Factor."  It is a red sign with the words "We Say Merry Christmas." You can get one for free if you spend at least $19.95 on what is known as "Factor Gear." (You can buy a doormat there which says "No Pinheads")

There is much to be said about the meaning of these bumper stickers, particularly the "We." Does it mean "We" are members of an elite group and you may not be in it?  Does it mean that "Season's Greetings" is for dummies?  Does it mean that we are part of the culture wars which wants to poke "Happy Holidays" down the throats of the faux politically correct who utter it? Does it mean we dislike Jews and/or are devout Christians?  Does it mean that you may be in danger of being a secular progressive, while "We" most certainly, are not?

Whatever it means, it is a sad thing that wishing people well this time of year has devolved into some kind of cultural war cry and challenge.  It is a sad thing when young families, who purchase photo Christmas cards proudly displaying their beautiful children, have to make a decision about "Happy Holidays" and "Season's Greetings." on the message in order not to appear callous or insensitive. It is sad that Lands End, a couple of years ago was caught asking employees to say "Happy Holidays" in place of "Merry Christmas" lest that offend non-Christians. When O'Reilly found out about it, he was very upset and sent Lands End into a tailspin of apology to prevent sales losses.

Because the US Constitution prohibits a state church, our country struggles with the idea of separation of church and state and dealing with the "wall of separation" so to speak. A current manifestation of this struggle is the controversy surrounding manger scenes and other symbols of Christmas in the public schools and on public property. When I was a child many years ago, classroom Christmas trees, choirs of angels and Santa Claus was everywhere in the public schools. Over the years schools have gotten away from this and one of the seasonal tension points has been annual Christmas concerts. The standard is less strict on public concerts where attendance is not mandatory, but there still is stress regarding what is sung or played on musical instruments.  Surely the "Messiah" imparts greater religious meaning than "Frosty the Snowman" or "Winter Wonderland."  As the religious right gets a foothold in our culture, look for more pressure to de-secularize the holidays. There are a spate of books out these days by people like Dr. James Dobson and Archbishop Charles Chaput of Denver on the role of religion in the public square.  The issue will not go away.  Instead it will evolve as we try to improve our understanding of the place of the church in our lives.

It strikes me as strange that Americans have such a problem with the separation of church and state. Given the examples we see of Islamic extremists all over the world, one would think that politics and religion don't mix without grave problems of violence and discrimination.

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Storm Coverage

Storm Coverage

Sometimes I wonder how much milk the television networks can get out of covering the weather. One recent Saturday morning is a good example.  Your choices around here on Saturday mornings are usually mind numbing cartoons or local news.  If local news is sparse they can always talk about the weather. Endless charts and swirling color graphics of storms roiling around the Caribbean. On this particular Saturday the news was Hanna and Ike. On and on and just for good measure they threw in Josephine who was doing her tiny thing off the coast of Africa.  Sometimes they divert to a show of storm fashion.  You get to see reporters standing in the rain and wind trying to shout into a microphone while sometimes seriously at risk from flying debris. As they shout at the camera we get to study their yellow or fluorescent pink slickers.  Headgear is fun to watch.  Baseball caps, often with an unknown university logo, get blown off heads.  Kerchiefs slap against the faces of pretty young women.  You wonder, "Is some boss making them stand there in the storm?"  I often think about that during the endless shots of traffic crawling behind a reporter on snow covered Route 128 in February.  Why do they want outside shots all the time?  Does that make you more in touch with what's going on?

You know the channel five reporter Gail Huff?  I think she is the road person for the news.  One morning she'll be up in Haverhill, N.H. talking about a guy who tried to shoot his wife.  The next day she's down on the Cape hanging almost sideways from a sign as a Nor'easter performs for the camera.  She seems to be everywhere that is remote.  I hope they pay her well, she earns it.

Years ago I was in charge of calling off school in my town if the weather made the trip to school unsafe.  Doing that job, you soon learn that it's more of a political decision rather than a safety one. I used to roll out of bed early and go out and drive around. I never learned much from doing that, but it was nice to be able to say later in the day that I was up and out at an ungodly early hour. Most of the time I took my cues from the guys who plowed the town parking lots. If they could clear early, we were on go. One important goal is to avoid being the only one who decides in one way while everyone else decides in the other direction.

I even had the mayor on the radio one morning cursing me because of a cancellation call.  Virtually everyone second guesses the decision and half of them think it was the wrong one.  I used to tell people that I did not call off school, my dog did.  I took her to the door after she woke up in the morning.  If she would not go out, school was cancelled. My kids' friends use to call us in the early morning on snowy days.  "What's your dad going to do?"  My son always had a good answer. "How do I know, Dad's in Florida at a conference." 

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Feeling Good About Obama

I was not one of the early supporters of Barack Obama; I came to him late after dealing with my disappointment over what the media had managed to do to Senator Hillary Clinton. I thought the Kennedy's were crazy when they lined up for Obama, agreed with Carville that Richardson was a betrayer, and said that I'd be damned if I turned Oprah's pick into my candidate. Then the primaries ended, Obama beat Hillary and the McCain-Palin ticket was formed. I grew tired of McCain calling Obama a socialist, the most liberal senator and a tax raiser.

McCain's tactics became shallow and desperate. I also got a little fed up with talk radio types like Monica Crowley dwelling on Obama's middle name and apparently trying to convince people that he might be a Muslim. The Sarah Palin decision cemented it for me, since I prefer my potential presidents to be able to utter coherent thoughts in English.

I voted for Obama, sent him a little money, and wore his pin on my coat. I didn't get as active as one of my daughters who wore an Obama T-shirt and tried to pick fights with people whom she thought might be leaning toward McCain.

I have watched the President-elect in television press conferences and in interviews. As he begins to wrestle with some of the biggest problems of our times, his cautious and centrist moves are impressive. His appointments so far have seemed to favor moderate and highly effective managers and visionaries. He's staying away from old cronies, unlike Bill Clinton and George Bush. He seems to be lining up an economic team with impressive credentials. He favors bailing out our cherished automobile heritage but with many strings attached. He's not afraid to back down a bit on Iraq by keeping on Secretary Gates. I like to hear him speak in that halting and reflective way which consistently defers to the reality that simplistic answers and slogans are not enough. He won't be saying, "Bring em on."

I like his family, although you've got to wonder about moving in your mother-in-law. His beautiful wife and daughters fit my stereotypes of the ideal first family. I suppose the media will do their best to discredit him in the best traditions of dissent and loyal opposition. The comparisons to Lincoln and FDR are a bit much. It's annoying to listen to commentators describe his early moves as Bill Clinton 2.0.

I hope he wins his battle with quitting cigarettes. It would be a shame to lose him to lung cancer.

He is in the back seat now as he prepares for the oval office, but he will hit the ground running. Obama campaigned on his personality and judgment and won. Now, like it or not, he isn't beholden to anyone. In the meantime I am with him 100%. He will navigate the ship of state through this mess and we will all be stronger for it.

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Report on a Hospital Stay

The Rehab Hospital

I have been laid up for almost a month because I have been in the hospital.  Last month I fell and fractured my hip, had it surgically repaired and spent 17 days at the Rehabilitation Hospital of the Cape and Islands.  This 14-year-old, 60 bed hospital, located in East Sandwich, is called "RHCI" by most people.  This piece is about my recent stay there.

The hospital is located along the Mid-Cape Highway between exits 2 and 3.  You can get a glimpse of the turrets on the building if you look carefully to your right when heading down Cape on a day when the trees are bare and the visibility is good.  It's like a different universe through those trees.  No one knows it is there except the patients and the staff, and yet it is a large, vibrant and caring community, dedicated to the single goal of helping people get better.  Sometimes it can be difficult to gain admission to the hospital because of the rules of insurance companies and federal programs like Medicare. They set the standard high in search of the neediest patients with realistic chances for recovery. It can feel like getting early admission to Harvard when you get word that RHCI will take you.

There is a rehabilitation point of view which pervades everything that goes on there.  It stresses the importance of therapy and hard work, the value of praise and positive reinforcement and the meaningfulness of tiny steps of progress toward a goal. At RHCI we are taught that "I can't do this" is a forbidden phrase and that all things must be accompanied by kindness and respect.

The staff at the hospital consists of a cadre of doctors, nurses, aides, therapists, coordinators, a psychologist and a social worker. The patients bring a variety of ailments such as broken bones, hip and knee replacements, strokes and head injuries. We were united in our desire to improve our situations. Everyone went by their first name and eye contact, smiles, and greetings were the order of the day when passing in the corridors or working in the gym., which was a beehive of activity daily involving swarms of uniformed therapists individually working with up to a dozen patients. My main goal in therapy was to learn to move about, with the help of a walker and a wheel chair, keeping all my weight off my right leg. This needs to go on until the fracture mends and can be quite involved, entailing getting in and out of bed, dressing  and carrying on the activities of daily living.  Pain management was also an important issue for me.

An alumni of grateful former patients of the hospital has developed over the years and the presence of this group is felt in many ways.  This group is active in reunions and fund raising and gifts from generous patrons are in evidence on corridor walls, patient rooms and common areas. Volunteers are found in the ranks of these people who might provide welcoming contacts, rolling library book carts or religious counseling and the like.  I met a cheerful man one day, some kind of liaison/coordinator, who had been hospitalized there twice and who said his pay was his free lunch.

When the therapists work with you at RHCI they often fasten what is known as a "gait belt" around your waist. This enables them to have something to hold on to if you start to stumble or fall. When you first try things the therapists hover about you, hands poised to rescue you by grabbing your gait belt. I brought my belt home.  It will be a special souvenir of my stay. 

My homecoming was a triumphant return to the scene of my accident. Wheeled into the house by my supportive wife, I gratefully mounted the ramp and platform built the day before by my son. It was a great feeling to roll through the kitchen to my leather living room recliner which felt so soft and comfortable. I still have a way to go with exercises, therapy, X-rays and all. One of my more pleasant tasks was reviewing the 800 unread e-mails sitting in my computer. My full-time job is getting better and I had a wonderful start at RHCI. It's a special asset here on our sandy peninsula and I am thankful that it was there for me.

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