Governor Patrick Wants us to Place our Bets...

To borrow a phrase from Emeril Lagasse, Governor Patrick is "kicking it up a notch."

The debate over the governor's proposed expansion of casino gambling has become increasingly heated over the last few months, and Patrick has chosen a tough strategy. In his proposed budget for the coming fiscal year, he has included $300 million that would be generated from casino licensing fees. $124 million would be used to cover a projected shortfall in the State Lottery. $88 million would fund property tax relief, and another $88 million would fund transportation construction projects in cities and towns. There's just one little catch...

The legislature has not approved his plan.

Here in what some call the "People's Republic of Massachusetts," it seems a bit strange that a Democratic Governor is locking horns with a Democratic Legislature just one year into his term. And yet, that's just what is going on. The Chairman of the House Ways and Means Committee, Democrat Robert A. DeLeo of Winthrop, had this response:

"Forget the cart - this is putting the entire wagon train before the horse...Moreover, even if this money did become available this year, which is a big 'if,' it may not be there the next year. Then we would have done nothing to really help . . . cities, towns, and property owners..."

To be fair, the Governor claims his budget will be balanced without the $300 million he seeks. However, he argues that it is in the state's interest to implement his proposal, because it will fund initiatives in the short term, and provide job growth and revenue for the long term.

Sounds pretty good. So why are the lawmakers on Beacon Hill not jumping on the wagon?

Perhaps it's because the long term benefits of casinos in Massachusetts are unclear. Both advocates and opponents of casino gambling frame their arguments in terms of extremes. The undecided tax payer is told he or she has two options - prosperity or ruin. However, a recent study from Harvard University suggests both sides have this one wrong.

They examined the impacts of casinos on a county level. Their goal was to test the statistical realities behind arguments for and against legalized gambling. Let's take a second and list the arguments people generally make in this debate.

ADVOCATES FOR CASINOS TEND TO ARGUE THAT...

1) Casinos provide a solid source of job growth.
2) They can stem a decline in regional populations
3) They can provide a readily available source of revenues when a government faces fiscal problems.

OPPONENTS OF CASINOS TEND TO ARGUE THAT...

1) Gambling sucks money out of local people's pockets, which hurts local businesses.
2) Casinos take money away from the state lottery
3) Casinos lead to increased crime, bankruptcy due to addiction, and therefore, actually don't improve the lives of locals.

What they found is that neither the feast nor famine arguments are true.

-Casinos can create jobs, but they are dispersed among more people, so unemployment rates really don't change.

-Property values in urban areas don't change too much, in rural areas they increase by about $6000 - not a lot.

-There is only a slight increase in bankruptcies.

-Revenues and expenditures in towns don't change drastically.

- A decrease in per capita crime.

In short, they found that casinos do some good things for counties, and some bad things. The overall impact was not dramatic, but rather, extremely modest. You can learn more by going to their report and reading it for yourself, at

http://www.ksg.harvard.edu/rappaport/downloads/gambling/casino.pdf

Well, from this Massachusetts voter's perspective, there really is only one conclusion to be reached.

Governor Patrick, casinos do not represent the road to the promised land.

I suspect his response would be that the short term revenue from licensing will help us make some long term investments in the state's future, and like many investments, it takes time for them to pay off. Maybe he's right. However, his approach to enacting this proposal has run directly against the kind of politics his campaign was based on.

His campaign motto was simple, yet beautiful.

Together, we can.

His grassroots operation portrayed him as a political outsider, a leader who would bring an end to political bickering, and usher in an era of progressive reforms. In his inaugural address, he claimed that we could find a new kind of politics, i.e., that wonderful word EVERY politician uses today - "CHANGE." Consider the following passages from his inaugural address:

"I will ask municipalities to enter into a new partnership with state government, so that we can work together to reduce their operating costs, to better plan across regions, and to rebuild city and town centers into stronger economic cores. My point is that we will be doing some things differently. Moving today’s rituals within reach of you is symbolic of that. Change is not always comfortable or convenient or welcome. But it is what we hoped for, what we have worked for, what you voted for, and what you shall have."

However, in his dogged pursuit of bringing change to Massachusetts, Governor Patrick has not yet changed the way government conducts business. He isn't doing things differently. He's playing the same old political games. Special interest groups and lobbyists are still on the hill, and he is embracing them. Massachusetts Lobbyists representing gambling interests reported a $1.2 million increase in fees during 2007. Forty lobbyists from 25 firms registered to lobby on casinos last year. Developer Sheldon Addelson (#3 on the Forbes 400 list) has campaigned on Patrick's behalf to implement the casino legislation. Sun Chronicle columnist and fellow Wheaton College graduate Ted Nesi said it best

"The Democratic governor ran as a liberal reformer who was going to blow open Beacon Hill backrooms and spend big money investing in the state's infrastructure and social services.

That's quite a contrast with Adelson, a Republican donor who spreads his money around.

In Las Vegas, Adelson is known for fighting legal battles against the powerful Culinary Workers Union, the Vegas tourist authority, and even the electric company, according to The New York Times. His suit against John L. Smith, a top columnist for the Las Vegas Review-Journal, drove Smith into bankruptcy."

The governor who campaigned on a platform of change is hanging out with special interest groups, lobbyists, and white men with deep pockets.

But perhaps the most telling statement about his style of governing came from one of his supporters, State Senator Steven Panagiotakos, a Democrat from Lowell. When asked about Governor Patrick's budgetary move, he stated

He is being as responsible as many of the other governors who used this sort of tactic in the past. A governor's budget is as much a fiscal document as it is a political document. The politics here is that he is trying to drive this issue further down the field in order to get it to a legislative debate.

In other words, the Governor is playing the same games as his predecessors.


So what exactly has changed, anyway?

The answer is simple. Nothing.

Governor Patrick was right when he said change was hard. It takes a lot more than vocal eloquence to be a true agent of change.

It's time for him to start making good on his promises.

"The Fog of War" - Robert McNamara and What we can Learn from Him

Every year on my Christmas list (yes, I am close to entering my mid 20s, and my mom still insists I write one), I normally ask for a movie or two. Generally, the movies in my DVD collection fall into two categories - (A) Overtly masculine action thrillers (i.e. The Hunt for Red October) and comedies, such as Mel Brooks' Young Frankenstein. To be added to my personal collection, a movie must fulfill but one requirement - I must feel compelled to watch it repeatedly. This year, I requested, of all things, a documentary.

Errol Morris' "The Fog of War" was released in 2004. It chronicles the life and work of former Secretary of Defense Robert Strange McNamara. He was 86 years old at the time of the film's making, and he is still with us today, at 91. Between 1961 and 1968, he served Presidents Kennedy and Johnson, and is widely considered one of the primary "architects" of the Vietnam War. He also was a key player in crafting American nuclear strategy, and the development of modernized systems analysis for the Pentagon. A man of incredible intellect and complexity, McNamara is one of the last surviving political links to the increasingly distant Cold War Era. The film itself is far more than just an interview - it is a cinematic masterpiece. Morris mixes old archival footage with beautifully shot one -on - one interview with McNamara. Philip Glass links all of the imagery to a hauntingly beautiful musical score.

Due to his deep involvement in the development and escalation of the Vietnam War, McNamara has received much criticism since leaving his post in 1968. Perhaps one of the most scathing critiques is that he was a "human IBM machine who care(d) more for statistical logic than for human judgments." At one point in the film, McNamara makes this point more bluntly, stating, "A lot of people think I'm a son of a bitch." "The Fog of War" proves that nothing could be further from the truth. Instead, we see McNamara for who he is - a deeply sensitive, introspective, and conflicted human being, destined to carry a tremendous mental burden forever.

Long before John F. Kennedy won the presidency, McNamara was exposed to the rigors of formulating defense policy. In the early 1940s, as American involvement in World War II escalated, he left his position as an Assistant Professor at Harvard Business School to serve as a captain in the United States Army Air Force. His primary role was to analyze the effectiveness of America's bombing campaign against the Japanese, and find ways to increase its effectiveness. He reported to General Curtis LeMay, the aggressive, abrasive (some would say careless) leader of the American bombing effort. To increase the effectiveness of bombing against the Japanese, McNamara analyzed data, and found that the high altitude B-29 bombers lost their effectiveness when bombing from high altitudes. As a result, General LeMay ordered the aircraft to bomb Japanese cities from 5,000 feet - a much more risky, but effective proposition.

We gain a lot of insight into the man's emotional side during his discussion of the bombing campaign. When describing the firebombing of Tokyo, he is blunt, but seems controlled -

McNAMARA: "I was on the island of Guam in his (LeMay's) command, in March of 1945. In a single night, we burned to death a hundred thousand Japanese civilians in Tokyo - men, women, and children. "


However, later on, he becomes more emotional.

"I participated in the interrogation of the B-29 bomber crews that came back that night. A room full of crewmen and intelligence interrogators, a captain got up - young captain, and said, 'God Damnit, I'd like to know who that son of a bitch was that took this magnificent airplane designed to bomb from 23,000 feet, and he took it down to 5,000 feet, and I lost my wingman. He was shot and killed...He (LeMay) stood up and pointed at the map, 'Why are we here? WHY are we here? You lost your wingman. It hurts me as much as it does you. (McNamara becomes choked up) I sent him there, and I've been there, I know what it is. BUT, you lost one wingman, and we destroyed Tokyo.'"

In addition to showing his emotional response to the tremendous loss of life brought about by the low altitude bombing, McNamara also shows his deep personal conflict. He stops short of condemning the decision to firebomb Japan, but he also stops far short of the saber rattling that General LeMay was known for.

MORRIS: "Were you aware that this (the massive civilian casualties in Tokyo) was going to happen?"

McNAMARA: "Well I was...part of a mechanism that in a sense recommended it. I analyzed bombing operations and how to make them more efficient - i.e., not more efficient in the sense of killing more, but more efficient in weakening the adversary..."

McNamara seems to lapse into the standard military synonyms, and who can blame him? The burden of living with the knowledge that he played a role in bringing about the deaths of hundreds of thousands of Japanese civilians must be mind boggling - I don't know that I could live with it. Thus, he feels compelled to partially insulate himself, while at the same time acknowledging the consequences of his actions. He is, in short, deeply conflicted. His ideas helped pave the way for victory in the Pacific theater, but it came at a tremendous human cost.

Another portion of the movie that offers great insight into the man is his discussion of his relationship with President Lyndon Johnson. Johnson was a very different (and some would say much more difficult) man to work for than Kennedy. He had an extremely domineering personality, and could intimidate even the most formidable politicos in Washington. Yet, McNamara was fiercely loyal to both men.

It was under Johnson's leadership that the campaign in Vietnam was escalated. Through the incorporation of recorded conversations with Johnson, Morris implies that McNamara was ultimately unable to shake himself loose of the "mechanism" that led to the destruction of Tokyo. Take, for instance, a recorded phone conversation between the two men from February of 1964 (not long after Kennedy's death):

JOHNSON: "I hate to modify your speech because it's been a good one, but I just wonder if we should find two minutes in there for Vietnam."

McNAMARA: "Yeah...the problem is what to say about it."

JOHNSON: "All right, I'll tell you what I would say about it, I would say that we have a commitment to Vietnamese freedom. We could pull out of there, the dominoes would fall, and that part of the world would go to the communists. We could send our Marines in there, get tied down in a third world war or another Korean action. Nobody really understands what it is out there. And they're asking questions and saying why don't we do more? Well, I think this - you can have more war or more appeasement. But we don't want more of either. Our purpose is to train the South Vietnamese and our training's going good. "

McNAMARA: "All right sir...I'll uh, I'll..."

JOHNSON: (cutting him off) "I always thought it was foolish for you to make any statements about withdrawing (Kennedy and McNamara had discussed exit strategies extensively). I thought it was bad psychologically. But YOU and the President thought otherwise and I just sat silent.

McNAMARA: "The problem is..."

JOHNSON: (cutting him off again) "And THEN come the questions - how in the hell does McNamara think when he's losing the war he can pull men out of there?

Indeed, McNamara had deep reservations about the war nearly from the beginning. Yet, in public, he never tried to remove himself from the political mechanism that he was a part of. One has to believe that, on some level, Johnson was able to intimidate McNamara into remaining loyal to him. Near the end of his tenure, McNamara sent Johnson a memo, in which he claims he advocated for a change of course in American policy. Johnson would have none of it. It was not long after that McNamara was dismissed.

And yet, at the same time, it seems McNamara wanted to remain loyal to Johnson. Despite the fundamental differences that ultimately led to his dismissal, McNamara still seems loyal to the man, even almost 40 years later.

After dismissing him from his cabinet post, Johnson awarded McNamara the Presidential Medal of Freedom. At the ceremony, McNamara was overcome by his emotions, so much so that he could not speak. Today, it appears that none of that emotion has been lost.

When asked to sum up his feelings, he states, "I know what many of you are thinking. You are thinking this man (Johnson) is duplicitous. You're thinking that he has held things close to his chest. You're thinking that...he did not respond fully to the desires and wishes of the American people. And I want to tell you you're wrong. Of course he had...personal idiosyncrasies. No question about that. He didn't accept all the advice he was given. On several occasions, his associates advised him to be more forthcoming. He wasn't. People did not understand at that time, there were recommendations and pressures that would carry the risk of war with China! And carry the risk of nuclear war! And HE was determined to prevent it!"

Again, we see personal conflict. The realist versus the loyalist. The loyalist wins out. We also see the human being - a far cry from the IBM machine characterization. We see one man grieving over a crisis that ultimately consumed and destroyed his boss. We also see a man clearly more comfortable talking about the future and what we can learn, as opposed to reliving the darker side of our past.

Despite all of the darkness in McNamara's life - the two wars, the stress, and tremendous personal toll, Morris makes it clear that McNamara has lost none of his intellectual fire. The man, now entering his 90s, is still driven by an almost superhuman desire to learn. Perhaps the greatest lesson he can take from his experiences is the importance of being willing to reexamine one's reasoning. Many years after the Vietnam War ended, he returned to the country, and concluded that he and many others had misread the Vietnamese people completely. They did not view it as a war for communist expansion, but rather, as a war for independence from colonialism. Ultimately, they had no interest in collaborating with the Chinese or Soviets to spread Communism around the world. Ironically, they wanted what Johnson himself articulated - Vietnamese freedom!

Ultimately, "The Fog of War" demonstrates that war is too complex for any one person to completely understand. McNamara tried, and clearly, he failed. Even today, it seems clear that he cannot fully wrap his mind around everything that transpired during his life as a public servant. When pressed on his personal stance on the war, McNamara clams up, saying, "you don't know how inflammatory my words can appear." Morris replies by saying, "is it this feeling that you're damned if you do and damned if you don't, no matter what you say?"

McNamara's reply says it all. "Yeah, that's right. And I'd rather be damned if I don't."

We should not condemn the man for trying to insulate himself. Frankly, no human can fully embrace those realities. Imagine trying to live from day to day, carrying the knowledge that this man possesses. It is an inhuman undertaking. If we are to learn anything from his story, it is that destructive power, concentrated in the hands of small number of human beings, will likely have dire consequences. Humans are fallible. It’s been that way since Adam and Eve. The burden of maintaining peace and prosperity, in other words, is a tremendous one. Furthermore, humans, whether they are in positions of power, or in the masses, should never trivialize the process of wartime decision making. It's too damned hard to make light of, and never as simple as it appears.

"We make our decisions. And then our decisions turn around and make us."

"Kataadn" Revisited - Part II

It was a long, uneventful drive up 95 north towards Millinocket - the closest town to Katahdin. Having lived in Massachusetts for several years, my view of busy highways had become somewhat distorted. I was used to three or four lanes, cutting back and forth, numerous exits, and just the overall sense of "Oh my god I'm late" that seems to dominate the minds of so many Massachusetts drivers. Once past Bangor, the Maine interstate is very different. It's only two lanes wide on each side. The cars are relatively sparse. The exits are 20 or 30 miles apart, sometimes even farther. As a driver, my mind essentially went on cruise control. Is sat in the truck, almost feeling like a passenger, just letting the miles idly tick away, one by one. It was a relaxing, albeit boring experience. I might liken it to the feelings experienced by a tall person flying coach, sitting in the middle seat. You come to a point where you're spending all of the time thinking about the destination, rather than the process of getting there.

After several hours, I reached Millinocket. Eventually, I checked into Hidden Spring Campground. The proprietor was a cheerful lady who looked to be in her mid fifties. When I told her I lived in Nantucket, she asked me for the spelling. It was clear that I wasn't in Kansas anymore. After filling out my reservation form by hand, we somehow got onto the topic of the "Phantom" comic strip. I politely told her I knew nothing about it. Her reaction was priceless. It was that sort of "where do you live, under a rock?" response any obsessive fan of Phantom (or anything for that matter) might have had. As I thanked her and walked out of the office, I suspected that if I mentioned the words "New York Times" to her, she might have had the same puzzled response that I'd had earlier. Oh the joys of rural life.

I do not mean to sound condescending. She was a gracious hostess, and very helpful in orienting me with the lay of the land. I simply wish to emphasize how foreign this place felt after being immersed in yuppie country for the better part of five years. She told me where I could photograph the mountain (and perhaps, some moose). In fact, people up here run into moose so frequently that they call a drive on the lonesome "Golden Road" (a road that moose frequent) a "Moose Ride." As I anticipated my moose ride, I wished I had more than my cheap disposable camera. Oh well.

I pitched my tent, bought some firewood, and set off for my moose ride. It was a calm, overcast evening. I spotted my first Moose about four or five miles down the Golden Road. He was too far away to photograph, so I didn't bother wasting the film. I kept driving for a considerable distance. I had no cell reception up here. Quite a different place.

Eventually, I reached Abol Bridge, where a small river rushed by. There were a few camps scattered on the shoreline, and one-man quietly fly-fishing near the riverbank. It was incredibly peaceful and serene. For the first time in a long time, I realized that every noise in my ears was natural, organic, and real! No buzzing cars, no honking horns, no lawn mowers, no nothing. Just the same noises that had echoed in these woods for thousands upon thousands of years. I looked at the great majestic mountain, feeling utterly spellbound. As I photographed it, I heard the fisherman yell to me. I wondered, "Is he pissed that I'm spoiling his view?" Then I heard him yell - "BIG MOOSE DOWN THEYUH!" He pointed downriver. Sure enough, about three hundred yards downriver, a large bull moose was wading in the water. Every twenty seconds or so, in a comical, repetitious routine, he ducked his head under the water, presumably to snag some aquatic plants (or avoid the cloud of bugs swirling around his head). I was too far away to get a good picture, so I just enjoyed watching him.

After this wild moment, I ceased to be the mountain man, and returned to the modern, bug free comfort of my truck. I picked up my cell phone to check the time. It was little more than a watch at this point. Getting late. Time to get back to the campground and cook up some grub.

A quick stop at the Katahdin trading post to make a couple of calls from a payphone (gasp, who uses THOSE?), and then I was back at hidden spring. I built a fire to deter the cloud of mosquitoes that had discovered my campsite, heated up a can of beef stew, and ate it joyfully, munching some crusty bread, watching the fire flicker and crackle, and enjoying the stars as they started to appear.

Later, I lay in my tent, reading Thoreau's "Ktaadin." He wrote of nights spent sleeping under the stars. "How lovely," I thought. Then, I realized that he probably didn't sleep much, as he was, most likely, swatting mosquitoes, black flies, and no - see - ums all night long. I bet his skin looked more like a topographic map. He probably would have killed for my LL Bean dome tent. Eventually, after turning my reading lamp off, I listened to the sounds of the woods at night. The wind rustled in the trees above. An owl hooted. I felt quite alone.

Six hours of fitful, excited sleep later, it was 4:30 AM. Unable to sleep any more, I rose and readied myself for the Mountain. It was time to climb. I hadn't really found Henry David yet. Perhaps this was my chance.

"Kataadn" Revisted, Part 1

"...Occasionally, when the windy columns broke in to me, I caught sight of a dark, damp crag to the right or left; the mist driving ceaselessly between it and me. It reminded me of the creations of the old epic and dramatic poets, of Atlas, Vulcan, the Cyclops, and Prometheus. Such was Caucasus and the rock where Prometheus was bound. Æschylus had no doubt visited such scenery as this. It was vast, Titanic, and such as man never inhabits. Some part of the beholder, even some vital part, seems to escape through the loose grating of his ribs as he ascends. He is more lone than you can imagine. There is less of substantial thought and fair understanding in him, than in the plains where men inhabit. His reason is dispersed and shadowy, more thin and subtle, like the air. Vast, Titanic, inhuman Nature has got him at disadvantage, caught him alone, and pilfers him of some of his divine faculty. She does not smile on him as in the plains. She seems to say sternly, why came ye here before your time? This ground is not prepared for you..."

This passage is a quote from my favorite Thoreau essay, titled "Ktaadn." Mount Katahdin (as we spell it today) was named long ago by the Native Americans that called the Maine woods home. Loosely translated, it means "the great mountain." As Maine's tallest mountain, it stands alone, over five thousand two hundred feet tall, with its ghostly, rocky crags looming over the verdant landscape. Representing the northern terminus of the Appalachian Trail, it is said (at least by some) to be the toughest mountain on the trail.

When he climbed Katahdin back in 1846, Thoreau walked in a world that probably felt like a different planet. With no trails to follow, no LL Bean Hiking boots, bug dope, filtered water, or trail mix, I would imagine the mountain felt twice as tall as it appeared. Subsisting on raw pork, hard biscuit, spring water, and some trout that he and his traveling companions caught, Henry fought his way through endless, seemingly impenetrable brush, swatting at endless clouds of mosquitoes, black flies, and no see - ums, with only his compass and heart to guide him. He was one tough, thoughtful fellow.

His trek up the mountain was the culmination of a long, difficult trip through the Maine wilds. In those days, there were no roads leading directly to Katahdin. He spent a great deal of time traveling by land and river before he even came remotely close to Katahdin. What could possibly have motivated him? Why did he do this?

A simple quote from renowned alpinist George Mallory probably sums it up. When asked why he wanted to climb Everest, Mallory replied, "Because it is there." This simple, yet powerful desire to conquer obstacles is what has driven humans forward since they first learned to walk many thousands of years ago. For some reason, humans are born with a desire to test their limits. We all do this in different ways. Such action does not always result in a positive outcome. Many have died in pursuit of that basic desire that George Mallory articulated so well. And yet, climbers and hikers continue heading for the peaks, driven by that same basic human need that drove Mallory and Thoreau so many years ago.

Like Thoreau, I could feel Katahdin calling me. I had felt it ever since first ascending it with my father and uncle back in 2003. We took an easier route, called the Saddle Trail. The day we climbed, Katahdin was sheathed in rain and fog. When we summited, there was nothing to see but barren rock and an opaque, milky sky. A lone crow perched on a rock. The mountain dropped away into the clouds. We had heard stories of great views from the top, but like Thoreau (who actually didn't reach the peak), we saw none of it. From that day on, I swore I would return to that peak, and by god, I'd inhale that great view for all it was worth.

The summers came and went. Wrapped up in summer jobs and earning money, I always had to back - burner those dreams of Katahdin. I'd make it back some day, I said. Just not this summer. Stick to the golf course for now.

This year, though, I knew something was different. I was not in school any more. With a full - time office job at the Nantucket Historical Association, I had been forced to adjust to the rigors of professional life, spending my hours in front of a computer screen, occasionally stealing a glance at the framed shot of Katahdin on my office wall. My father gave me that photo as a birthday gift. He told me "put it in your office." This was before I had an office job, mind you. It was as if he knew I needed something to keep me attached to the Maine woods I knew and loved back home. Nantucket, although a beautiful place, is choked with tourists and seasonal residents in the summer months. And crowds, as we all know, bring STRESS. Endless lines at the take-out - joints, rowdy drunken preppies stumbling out of bars to barf in the streets, and countless young people, running from boutique to boutique, buying $200.00 polo shirts on Mommy and Daddy's credit card without a second thought.

By June, I needed to get away.

Luckily, it just so happened that life afforded me the opportunity I sought. Having worked many extra hours, I had roughly 40 hours of comp. time on the books, enough for a week's vacation. Also, my little sister was graduating from High School! It was a perfect opportunity to escape. So, without hesitating, l loaded up the truck, booked a ferry reservation, cleared my desk, and trekked home. Maine again! Katahdin didn't feel so far away any more.

On my way home, I stopped at LL Bean and invested in a new pair of hiking boots. I would need them for this trip. This act was also designed to serve as an additional motivator. After dropping $100 on a pair of boots, I knew I'd feel like a total idiot if I didn't follow through and climb Katahdin. Eventually, after Kirstie's wonderful graduation, I knew time was wasting. I had less than a week. If I was going to climb Katahdin, I had to do it soon. So, on Monday night, June 11th, I announced my intentions to my parents. They were mildly surprised, slightly nervous, but nonetheless encouraging. They knew I had wanted to do this for a long time. Perhaps they were nervous because they knew I was going to climb the mountain solo. Many people hike Katahdin, but it can still be a dangerous mountain. Twenty-two people have died up there since 1926, and who knows how many others perished before that. I imagine there are at least several old Native American ghosts among the boulders up there. It is not a mountain to be taken lightly.

As I loaded up my truck with gear, I looked at my mom, and said, very simply, "I won't do anything stupid, and I promise, if I ever feel really unsure of myself with anything up there, I won't do it." I do not wish to sound melodramatic or self - serving here. Indeed, I bet some veteran hikers would scoff at such a comment. It isn’t Everest. However, I felt I owed it to mom to make that promise. I would be alone in a landscape that, at times, could be unforgiving. I needed to be careful. Most of all, I didn't want her to worry any more than she normally would. Although not yet a parent myself, I imagine that there are few feelings worse in life than knowing that, somewhere out there, your child is in a place where you cannot easily locate or contact them. Cell reception isn't very good up there.

With a truck full of camping and hiking gear, food, and some maps, I headed north at about 2 PM Tuesday afternoon, destined for Hidden Spring Campground in Millinocket, Maine. Millinocket is the closest town to Katahdin. It is roughly three hours north, or about 180 miles, from my family's home in Woolwich. The mountain is indeed much more accessible than it was in Henry David's day. I wonder if he would have enjoyed a seat in my truck with some Paul Simon CD's to keep him occupied. He probably wouldn't like it very much, but it's fun to imagine nonetheless. I also took a copy of his essay, "Kataadn," with me. I intended to experience his essay in the very land that bore it. As I drove north, I wondered if I could really touch it. Could I really reach out and touch the mountain and feel what Thoreau felt? Or would modern civilization render his essay as little more than a distant relic of a time long since passed? I didn't know, but I was anxious to find out!

The Problem with Loudmouths

Unless you've been living underneath a rock, I'm sure you know what this commentary is about. However, for those rock dwellers, let me summarize a news story that has been getting a great deal of attention during the past few days.

The controversy involves some recent comments by MSNBC radio pundit Don Imus. One of the leading "shock jocks" in the country, Imus is known for his hard - hitting opinions, which are often laced in irreverent sarcasm and political incorrectness. One might say he is a very small step above Howard Stern. Maybe.

On a recent show, Imus turned his thoughts to the Rutgers University Women's Basketball team. Rutgers was a great feel - good story of the NCAA tournament. The Scarlett Knights had a great Cinderella-like run to the championship game, only to be bested by hall of fame coach Pat Summit's Lady Vols of Tennesee. Their valient efforts put Rutgers athletics back on the map.

Albeit briefly.

While commenting on the championship game, Imus made the following comments:

IMUS: So I watched the women's basketball game last night...between...a little bit...of Rutgers and Tennessee, the women's uh...final.

SID ROSENBERG (sports host on with Imus: Yeah, Tennessee won last night, seventh championship for Pat Summit...they beat Rutgers by thirteen points.

IMUS: Boy, some rough girls from Rutgers, man, they got tattoos and...

PRODUCER: ...Some hardcore ho's!

IMUS: Some nappy headed ho's there, I'm gonna tell you that *laughter*

There you go. Straight from the horse's mouth.

As you can imagine, Imus's comments have ignited a firestorm of criticisim. Pundits everywhere are calling for his resignation. One of the loudest voices in this whole mess (besides Imus) has been, some might say predictably, the reverend Al Sharpton.

Rarely does one find a controversy that Al Sharpton doesn't take the time to weigh in on. He does, after all, have the gift of gab. Furthermore, he's not afraid to use it.

After calling for his resignation, Sharpton invited Imus onto his radio program. Imus agreed to join Sharpton on the airwaves, in an effort to clear his name.

The New York Times published a transcript of their conversation. Here is one segment:

IMUS:...I wasn't even thinking racial. I was thinking like a "West Side Story" deal, like one team's tough and one team's not so tough.

SHARPTON: Nappy is racial.

IMUS. Yes, sir, I understand that.

SHARPTON. Saying wannabes and jigaboos is racial.

Fast forward a bit...

SHARPTON: I'm not going to call you a name, I'm not going to call you bigot. I'm going to say what you said was racist. I'm going to say what you said was abominable. I'm going to say you should be fired for saying it.

A little bit later, Imus recalled a conversation he had with African American Reverend DeForest Soaries:

"...And then he said something else, he said, you know, you said, here's what you have to understand - that's what he said now - he said, black people, at the core of their soul, don't believe that white people like them. And he said, at some point when something like this happens with someone like you, who they would - who a person could, you would think, could trust and would be on our side, he said, this just confirms that whole fear..."

The interview was much longer. Read the whole thing if you want. Just go to this address: http://www.nytimes.com/2007/04/09/business/media/09imus_transcript.html?pagewanted=5

Here's my point. Think about Imus' quote. Nappy headed ho's. Let's break it down. "Nappy" is a racial slur, which makes reference to the stereotypically curly/frizzy hair that supposedly every black person has. Brilliant, really.

"Ho," translated roughly means, "slut."

From my perspective, there are two components of hate speech here in Imus' comments. He is insulting black people. But he his also insulting WOMEN.

Where, though, is that discussion in the comments I highlighted for you above? Don't bother going back to look for it. It's not there.

Sharpton did make one comment later in the interview, calling Imus' comments "racist and sexist." However, after reading the transcript, it seems clear that the racism question really is driving Sharpton's commentary. The ratio of "sexist" to "racist" in the interview is extraordinarilly lopsided.

This doesn't help Sharpton. It hurts him.

Conservative pundits everywhere salivate at these types of controversies. Why is that? Well, there are many different reasons. However, one major bonus is that people like Reverends Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson will ALWAYS come out of the woodwork to weigh in on the matter. And true to form, they've done so again. Frankly, they're justified in their outrage.

But here's the problem. Critics paint Sharpton and Jackson as knee - jerk reactionaries. They portray them as vultures, circling in the air, waiting for an opportunity to swoop in and take over the situation.

In failing to provide some commentary with depth, which fully analyzes this situation, Sharpton is selling himself short. I suspect that a lot of Americans will brush him off and say he sounds like a broken record. "There goes reverend Al again, playing the race card like he always does."

That is quite unfortunate. But reverend Al's message is somewhat disconnected from the situation at hand. We're not just talking about racism here. We're talking about sexism. That merits an equal amount of discussion.

By treating the overtly sexist nature of Imus comments as little more than an afterthought, Sharpton is falling back on that knee-jerk race card playing mold that his critics have crafted for him over the years. He's playing right into their hands.

Al, for Goodness sakes. Come out of your shell. The sexism and racism are equally egregious. Give them a level playing field in the public discourse. More people might listen.

The most insightful commentary on this matter has come from PBS journalist Gwen Ifill, one of the most brilliant journalists out there. She had this to say:

"LET’S say a word about the girls. The young women with the musical names. Kia and Epiphanny and Matee and Essence. Katie and Dee Dee and Rashidat and Myia and Brittany and Heather.

The Scarlet Knights of Rutgers University had an improbable season, dropping four of their first seven games, yet ending up in the N.C.A.A. women’s basketball championship game. None of them were seniors. Five were freshmen.

In the end, they were stopped only by Tennessee’s Lady Vols, who clinched their seventh national championship by ending Rutgers’ Cinderella run last week, 59-46. That’s the kind of story we love, right? A bunch of teenagers from Newark, Cincinnati, Brooklyn and, yes, Ogden, Utah, defying expectations. It’s what explodes so many March Madness office pools.

But not, apparently, for the girls. For all their grit, hard work and courage, the Rutgers girls got branded “nappy-headed ho’s” — a shockingly concise sexual and racial insult, tossed out in a volley of male camaraderie by a group of amused, middle-aged white men. The “joke” — as delivered and later recanted — by the radio and television personality Don Imus failed one big test: it was not funny."

Amen, Gwen. You said it better than I ever could. That's why you have a gig with PBS, and I stick to a blog.

I think Reverend Al, Reverend Jackson, and every other pundit out there should take Gwen's advice. Were Imus' words racist? Yes. But, as Gwen says, "let's say a word about the GIRLS."

Thoughts on Solitary Beach Walks

The beauty of Nantucket is that if you keep walking in a straight line, you will always reach a beach.

Beaches are fascinating things. They are always being reshaped by the ocean, and also by the seasons. The summer brings us scorching hot sand, suntans, swimming in the surf, and the smell of sunscreen. The mind is more sensory - more focused on the present. The summer beach is not a place for analysis. Rather, it's a place for relaxation. I almost feel high from inhaling my surroundings - the mind becomes relaxed. Oh, I may read a book or two, but the reading is always casual, never rigorous.

However, the winter (or early spring, in this case) beach is a different story. Like summer, it is a time when I inhale my surroundings, but the brain does not relax. Far from it! Winter beach walks make the mind race! Why is that? Why do I feel so inspired when I come here in the winter? Why does the summer beach feel so different?

Frankly, I have no idea. I suspect it has something to do with the icy northwest wind. It cuts through my sweater and jacket, and reddens my face. The wind makes the winter beachcomber uncomfortable, but only slightly so. It forces our blood to pump faster. Perhaps this boosts our brainpower.

Total load of crap? Probably. But it makes sense to me.

Tonight, I thought Cisco Beach would be a fitting destination for one of my early spring perambulations. Located on the southern side of the island, Cisco has strong surf, and beautiful sunsets. It is always quiet in the off-season. Then again, so is the whole island.

I parked my car and started to walk. The last time I came here, I had turned right, and walked down towards Madaket. To change things up, I decided to head left.

Immediately, I let myself become absorbed in the present. I wandered near the surf. The sand was covered in small rocks and pebbles, far more than I recall seeing in the past. All were beautifully smooth and round. And what an incredible array of color! One does not usually associate purples, pinks, oranges, blues, and greens with New England rocks, but here they were! They were speckled with what looked like little white pearls - only pebbles, I knew, but lovely ones nonetheless. Every time the surf came up, I would hear the rocks grinding on the bottom. A new beach being born.

There is something awe-inspiring in these simple walks. Sometimes the smallest details stimulate our brains the most. Often, in the hectic world we refer to as "real," we brush aside such simple things as minutia. Who has time for pebbles on a beach? I myself am guilty of it. However, as Thoreau said,

"There is in fact a sort of harmony discoverable between the capabilities of the landscape within a circle of ten miles' radius,
or the limits of an afternoon walk, and the threescore years and ten of human life. It will never become quite familiar to you."

Such is the nature of a beach. It is never the same. As the ocean builds a Nantucket beach, it takes it away. The whole island is eroding. There will come a time when Nantucket vanishes beneath the waves, never to be seen again.

In a way though, much of Nantucket has already vanished.

I wandered the shores. For a time, I saw no houses. Only the ocean, surf, and sand. It was awe - inspiring. I imagined myself walking in the moccasins of a Wampanoag (the original Nantucketers). I thought - perhaps this is what they knew. In short order, though, I realized I was wrong. First off, the beaches the Wampanoag walked have long since vanished beneath the waves. Secondly, as a Wampanoag walked the shore, he would likely have seen an ocean teaming with whales. The white man helped take care of that. As a historian, I always long for the opportunity to walk through the past. There are still some opportunities for that, although they are increasingly hard to find.

This moment of reflection was suddenly jolted out of my conscience. I looked back at the sun. In a moment that I am sure made Henry David Thoreau role over in his grave, I pulled my cell phone from my pocket. A quick text to Macy was in order. "Sunset is gorgeous. Moon is rising. Love you. - me"

I'm sorry Henry. I just couldn't bear to keep it all for myself!

With my quick technical aside in the present complete, I continued my walk. I wandered up the beach towards the dunes, and suddenly, rows upon rows of "trophy homes" came into view. I thought to myself, what would Henry David say to this?

Well, he actually already covered that subject. In his essay, "Walking," he wrote,

"...From many a hill I can see civilization and the abodes of man afar. The farmers and their works are scarcely more obvious than woodchucks and their burrows. Man and his affairs, church and state and school, trade and commerce, and manufactures and agriculture even politics, the most alarming of them all -- I am pleased to see how little space they occupy in the landscape..."

Granted, some things have changed since Henry went for his walks. The farms have been replaced by the homes of millionaire software engineers, doctors, and lawyers. There are more rabbits on Nantucket than woodchucks. Landscapes change with time, but our emotional connection to them, that basic human instinct to absorb one's surroundings - that, I think, is timeless. We need to preserve that.

What is the purpose of a trophy house on such a precarious perch? Unless moved, the sea will eventually consume these houses. These days, there is a lot of talk about "beach reclamation." People want to dump loads of sand on the shores to "reclaim" the island. They can do what they want. But nothing in nature is meant to last forever.

The biggest question, for me though, is more basic. Many of these homes are empty the majority of the time. Their owners are too busy with their lives in New York, Boston, and New Jersey to enjoy them very often. The very forces that enabled them to acquire their homes also keep them away. What, I wonder, is the point of building a home in a gorgeous landscape, if you will seldom be there to enjoy it?

Henry suggests that all things that are man-made occupy "little space in the landscape." I have to agree with him on this one. When you get right down to it, we really are pathetically small. Despite what we may think, we are not in total control. Great trophy homes that are supposed to reflect our awesome power and status are merely empty shells waiting to be consumed by the waves. We can't control that. All we can do is move the house back 100 yards, or pay a ton of money to dredge up some sand. It's just a matter of time.

After sunset, I looked back at the moon, nearly full. What a beautiful sight.

The winter beach reminds me to take time to enjoy the simple things in life. It is in the simple times that the brain is often the most stimulated.

I Love this Song

John Mellencamp has recently gone public with a song called "Our Country." You may have heard it in Chevy commercials. He also performed it live before game two of the World Series. It will be officially released as part of an album in early 2007.

Here are the lyrics.

Well I can stand beside
Ideals I think are right
And I can stand beside
The idea to stand and fight
And I do believe
There's a dream for everyone
This is our country.

There's room enough here
For science to live
And there's room enough here
For religion to forgive
And try to understand
All the people of this land
This is our country.

From the East coast
To the West coast
Down the Dixie Highway
Back home
This is our country.

That poverty could be
Just another ugly thing
And bigotry would be
Seen only as obscene
And the ones that run this land
Help the poor and common man
This is our country

From the East coast
To the West coast
Down the Dixie Highway
Back home
This is our country.

The dream is still alive
Some day it will come true
And this country it belongs
To folks like me and you
So let the voice of freedom
Sing out through this land
This is our country.

From the East coast
To the West coast
Down the Dixie Highway
Back home
This is our country.

From the East coast
To the West coast
Down the Dixie Highway
Back home
This is our country.


I think this is the kind of song that sums up what many Americans have gone through over the last 5 years, and more importantly, what we need to be thinking about right now. Kudos to John.

Is this Really Politics as Usual?

Hello reader. Long time no see. As usual, work has been sucking my creative energies out of this blog. Right now, we're in the midst of drafting budget proposals for next year - it's intense, high pressure stuff. It also means that I sit at my desk agonizing over numbers all day. Anybody out there who knows me will tell you - Erik does not like numbers. I need a release. Thank goodness for this blog.

It's almost November, and that means the elections are not far away. Being a political junky, I have enjoyed following a variety of campaigns. My love for politics is somewhat akin to the masses of rednecks who attend NASCAR races. I watch it for the crashes. I want to see which politician goes down in a great, blazing fireball. I love the mudslinging. As Robert DeNiro says in "Raging Bull," "Now that's...ENTERTAINMENT."

Some people watch NASCAR. I follow politics. Don't ask me why.

Part of what makes Nantucket (my primary residence now) so neat is the incredibly isolated, small - town culture that exists here in the offseason. Make no mistake about it - Nantucketers do take state and national politics seriously. But local politics are what really fire them up. It's classic New England, really. New England is the home of the classic American "town meeting." It is through town meetings that we experience politics in the raw - the people come to speak, and they are heard. I remain thoroughly convinced that this is what our founding fathers cherished most. God help us if the town meeting dissapears.

In any case, one of the major local issues involved a Republican primary. Two men, Rick Barros, and Doug Bennet, were battling for a shot at a State Senate seat. The district in question encompassed the Cape and Islands. Bennet lost to Barros in a landslide a month ago.

I became fascinated with Bennett's campaign a few months back. He currently serves as a member of the board of selectmen here on Nantucket. He is relatively young. He is also controversial - everyone became livid when he used the town meeting as an opportunity to promote his campaign. The board's meetings were broadcast on local TV, and he made a campaign speech, much to the chagrine of a few people.

Bennet did not seem to have a ton of money for the race. His strategy was to sit in one of the many traffic circles that dot cape cod. He held up large "Bennett for Senate" signs, waving at people as they drove by.

That, in a nutshell, was his campaign.

A quick visit to Bennett's website reveals a campaign that was basically a very thin shell of political ambition. Let's start with the main page. It's a shot of Doug pointing at the us, in an "Uncle Sam wants YOU..." pose. Cheesey. Barf.

Longing to know more about this enigmatic memeber of Nantucket's board of selectmen, I went and looked at his campaign platform. Here's all he had to say:



As your State Senator, I will fight for initiatives that solve these areas:

1. AFFORDABLE HEALTHCARE

2. LOW TAXES

3. SOLUTIONS TO SKYROCKETING UTILITY & ENERGY COSTS

4. LESS HOME INSURANCE RATES

OK, great. You're a man of the people. Now tell me how you're going to do it.

But there was nothing to be found.

However, the real laugher comes in his "famous quotes" section. I expected to find inspirational quotes from his favorite role models. He's a Republican, so I figured there had to be a Reaganism or two, maybe even a Goldwater quote, or, gasp, Dubyah quote. Imagine my surprise when I found that every quote came from Doug! Here they are, uncensored.



There’s something I can’t explain that’s pulling me in that direction. Some people call it guts. I don’t know what to call it. All I want to do is lead. I believe that’s what my purpose here on this planet is. It’s to serve as a leader for the people…”

“I’m in my physical prime. I’m in marathon-shape. I will out-stamina my opponents and I’m as shrewd as the hawk…”

“Our government officials refuse to allow the buck to stop with them. Too many of our elected officials are in it for themselves and that of special interests. Their hands are in each others pockets and all they care about is keeping power through repression of you and me, the People. Presently, Beacon Hill is run by insurance salesmen, lawyers, and big corporations. There’s a need for those in my generation to step up and accept these leadership burdens and this is what I’m doing...”



Shrewd as a hawk! Marathon shape! Float like a buttahfly, sting like a bee! You can't catch me, I'm Mohammad Ali!

This may shock and amaze ya! But I'm gon' beat Joe Frazier!

Sorry, I couldn't help it. The arrogance and emptiness in those quotes was just too much for me. I couldn't tell if I was listening to a politician, or professional athlete.

What ever happened to the humble servant of the people?

Do you see where I'm going with this? Doug actually BELIEVED that he could win with a campaign that ignored the issues, lacked clarity, and ignored substance. All he gave us were some photos, some sentence fragments that he called a "platform," and some simple, self - promotional quotes.

Forgive me for sounding like a pessimist here, but honest to goodness, is this really what politics has become? I'm inclined to say yes.

We live in the era of the soundbite. If we can't communicate it in 10 seconds, it's not worth saying it at all. Look no further than the governor's race here in Massachusetts. The debates are a joke. Oh, they might talk about the issues occasionally, but it's all about can talk the loudest - be it Christy Mihos shouting down Kerry Heally, or Grace Ross and her gap toothed mug telling us to vote for her when we know she doens't have a snowball's chance in hell. Deval Patrick has tried to stay positive, but even he has been sucked into the trap of mudslinging. He took a shot at Heally's intelligence the other night, saying something to the effect of, "I wish you would discuss the issues, instead of just reaching into your right wing playbook."

Now that's entertainment.

It's not what politics should be.

Politicians today seem more obsessed with HOW they say something, rather than WHAT they're actually saying. And the thing is, as voters, we're buying into it. It's what we want to hear.

Doug Bennett and his empty shell of a campaign lost in a landslide. I find some solace in that. But I am nonetheless disturbed by the dumbing down of the popular discourse in politics today. If we continue on our current track, who knows where we'll be?

Perhaps Doug will win.

But don't worry, there's still hope for us.

Visit www.dougbennettstatesenate.com to have your intelligence insulted. Maybe that'll motivate you to kick our leaders in the ass. Hard.

SAT Scores are Down

I realize I have not written in a VERY long time. I've probably lost any hope of having an audience. I've been so incredibly busy this summer. However, now that I've settled in, I think it's time to get rid of the rust and try some writing again.

I like to try to get my news from differing points of view - I listen to NPR, and primarilly read the New York Times and the Boston Globe. I also try to listen to a decent amount of talk radio.

Every morning, I wake up to a talk station called 95.1 WXTK. On weekdays, Ed Lambert and Donny Mckeag, two very loud conservative pundits, talk about whatever is on their minds. The show is broadcast out of a station on Cape Cod - I believe it is based in West Yarmouth.

These guys usually infuriate me with their commentary on the news, mainly because of their cynicism, sarcasm, and oversimplification of issues. However, I always like to keep my ears open. It encourages me to be a critical thinker. Good brain excercise.

So today, Ed's primary gripe involved this interesting tidbit of news...

According to the college board, the SAT scores of students in Massachusetts have DROPPED for the first time in fifteen years.

Now, Ed has a terrible habit of omiting facts that undermine his argument. So here's what he did.

In trying to figure out the reason for this decline, some guidance counselors have suggested that the decline has been caused by fatigue. The test now has a writing portion, which increases the length of the test to 3 hours, 45 minutes.

Ed was beside himself on this one. He read this suggestion with bitter, hard-edged sarcasm, gradually climbing his soap box. Then he really let the kids of Massachusetts have it.

"SHAME ON YOU!!!" He said. "I am SICK and TIRED of the way our children are being CODDLED in this society...do the guys that work in factories 8.5 hours a day get to go home early because they're FATIGUED??? What is WRONG with you people???"

To tell you the truth, I wasn't surprised by this at all. Ed is always approaching the news from the "I'm mad as hell and i'm not going to take it anymore" angle. Which is fine, it's talk radio. He has to entertain people. But in entertaining us, so many facts were lost in the shuffle.

First off, let me begin by saying that Ed never had to take this test at its current length.

Secondly, let's take a second and think seriously about this. Are there any tests in college that last almost 4 hours? Almost none. The only tests I ever took that lasted longer than 3 hours were two 4 hour LAW exams that I took. In regular law schools, an exam lasts 3 hours.

College students are generally more mature than high school students. They have a wider attention span, they're more used to long classes, tests, and papers. And yet, in my own experiences, I seldom was forced to take a test that lasted more than three hours. So is it possible that we are pushing the envelope with high school students with this 3 hour, 45 minute test? I think it's a worthwhile question.

And here's the thing. In listening to Ed Lambert talk about this, you'd think that this fatigue argument was the final verdict. But it's not!!!

That supposedly liberal rag, the Boston Globe, wrote a great story about this. Here is an excerpt that will tell you the full story:


The numbers for the class of 2006, released yesterday, mirrored a national decline in scores. They were the first statewide results reported since the addition of a writing section, the biggest change to the Scholastic Assessment Tests in more than a decade. The new section, in which students write an essay and answer multiple-choice questions about grammar, added 45 minutes to the exam.
Yesterday, college counselors and state Education Commissioner David P. Driscoll said the dips in students' scores should prompt the New York-based College Board, which administers the exam, to examine whether students are tiring during the test.
College Board officials attributed the drops in reading and math to fewer students choosing to retake the SAT since the writing portion was added, but stressed that they did not think the exam's length led to the biggest dip in the national average in 31 years.


See? No final answer! It's a debate. But Ed didn't want you to believe that. Why? Because then he couldn't whip us up into an emotional frenzy about it. Furthermore, it's a part of a NATIONAL decline. If this is happening everywhere, shouldn't we try and figure out why?

But the real laugher was Ed's proposed sollution to this dillemma. He said "Tell your kids to get their butts in gear. Work harder. Get help."

Why should we be so quick to blame the students? Why not wait and see if this is a trend that continues next year? Why not do some factual analysis and see what comes up? Why not study the problem?

The issue is not lazy students. We don't know what the issue is. We need to discuss it, and figure it out.

It seems that too often in this world, opinions are considered more helpful than intellectual curiosity. Instead of trying to travel through the layers of a problem, it's easier to give it a brief overview, opine about it loudly, and then throw it away with the daily paper, into the recycling bin, as I'm sure Ed did after his show today. He'll have new issues to gripe about tomorrow.

Maybe we ought to try slowing down, and start thinking these problems through.

After all, isn't that what we're taught to do in school? Think things through?

What a novel concept!

Greetings Reader!

A fellow by the name of Thomas Mann once said that "the task of a writer involves being able to make something out of an idea." This blog, I suppose, is an attempt to apply that quote to myself.

My name is Erik. I come from the lovely state of Maine. I recently earned my BA in American Studies from Wheaton College (the one in Massachusetts, not Illinois). Presently, I am employed by the Nantucket Historical Association, where I work as an interpreter (i.e. docent). I will be living here until at least September, perhaps even longer than that. My long term goal is to continue my education, and earn a Masters/PhD in American History in the future. I would like to be a professor some day. I should emphasize, however, that this is the LONG term plan, which means it is subject to change. I want to take some time to just live life for a while. When I've completely made up my mind about what the next big step is going to be, then I will move on.

In beginning this blog, I have a couple of goals. The main purpose of this blog is to serve as a forum for my random musings about adjusting to island life. Having been a landlubber up to this point, this is a very new experience for me. I may occasionally wander off in a different direction, and write a book review, or perhaps a piece about sports or political issues, however, generally, I hope that this blog will be about Nantucket, the work I do, and island life. Above all else, however, I intend to use this blog as a means of keeping my brain active.

I am in the process of acquiring a nice memory card for my brand spanking new digital camera, so as soon as I get that taken care of, I will be including photos in this blog as well.

So that's my introduction for the blog. I will soon publish another post that chronicles my first week living and working here on the island.