Insight: Humility doesn’t need to be noticed

By Ed Pierce
Managing Editor

I recently read a magazine article which drew distinctions between a sense of humility and having excessive pride in an achievement that you’ve accomplished.

The article’s author mentions that humility is a character trait of self-esteem and suggests that lofty achievements do not require you to brag or gloat about them, while pride is a personal quality of recognizing that you’ve personally done something significant and are happy about it.

In the article, it cited a survey saying that most Americans found that humility was not a character trait that translated to life satisfaction and not something sought in a leader, a great athlete or a movie star. Results of the survey indicated that Americans look at our culture as a competition where only the best person lands the job, wins the Olympic medal, is elected to a government position, or can afford the purchase of an $8 million home.

The author related that in the day and age that we live in, it’s tough to understand the need for humility in our society and how we all deal with each other every day.

This made me think of some of the people I have admired in my lifetime, and what made them special to me.

I’ll start with my father, who was a World War II veteran. He never wanted to be a soldier, in high school he had his mind set on becoming a mechanical engineer and designing things to make people’s lives better. Yet on his 18th birthday in 1943, his draft notice from the U.S. Army arrived in the mail.

Trained for the infantry, he was assigned to a combat unit bound for Libya and Morocco and then to an outfit participating in the liberation of Anzio, Italy from the Germans. During that battle, a vital communications line at a forward outpost had been severed, so a volunteer was sought to see what had happened to it and to restore it. When that volunteer didn’t come back, a second volunteer was sought. Again, hours passed, and it was determined that a third volunteer was needed to find out what had happened and repair the broken communications line.

That third volunteer was my father. He followed the line all the way to the outskirts of a small village where he saw the bodies of the two volunteers from his unit laying on the ground by the broken line. He determined that they were dead and worked quickly to fix the broken communications line. Suddenly, he heard a gunshot and felt pain in his back. A German sniper in a church bell tower had shot him and my father lay still and played dead hoping that when darkness fell in a few hours, he could get to safety.

Within 15 minutes, my father noticed the German sniper walking toward him. He bent over and started going through the pockets of the other two dead volunteers from my father’s unit. In great pain and bleeding profusely, my father raised his rifle and shot the sniper. He crawled to the communications line and restored it to operational status. Medics transported my father for treatment and he survived. Not long after, he was awarded the Bronze Star medal for bravery and heroism for his actions in combat.

Years later when I asked him about his time in the U.S. Army, he told me it was “nothing special.” He told me about traveling across the Atlantic Ocean on a troop ship and what the American encampments were like in Libya, but he left out the combat details of his military service. I found after his death about the specifics from paperwork he had stashed away in his closet.

I attribute his not wanting to talk about his experiences in combat to humility. He grew up during the Great Depression and coming from a family of eight kids, he had set a goal to be the first in his family to graduate from college and to own a home. The way he viewed it, his military experiences were necessary to preserve our American way of life and protect everyone’s future freedom to pursue our goals in life.

Many of the military veterans I’ve had the privilege to meet and interview in my journalism career have similar stories. It’s like they have compartmentalized their combat experiences, put them in the rearview mirror and hit the gas pedal to move forward. They have not forgotten seeing good friends and colleagues lose their lives but choose to live in the present day with humility, rather than relive the horrors of war.

The same thing can be said of Hall of Fame National Football League and Major League Baseball players that I’ve interviewed through the years. For the most part they are nostalgic about their achievements, but do not brag or gloat about them. As one college basketball player I interviewed once told me, his greatest thrill was in making the college team when only a select few players are chosen to compete at that level.

To me, genuine humility is something we all should strive for. It’s a willingness to forego pretense and accept that we are all human deep down inside.

Andy Young: King of the wordsmiths

By Andy Young

Until recently I didn’t realize that “assesses” is, with eight letters, the longest English word that contains just a single consonant, albeit one that appears four times. Nor was I aware that “bookkeeper” is the only common word in the English language with three consecutive pairs of double letters.

But I know it now, thanks to Richard Lederer, who has authored more than 50 books on the English language. One of them, “Word Circus,” contains not only the fascinating information above, but numerous essays on (and examples of) anagrams, puns, oxymorons, and various other forms of wordplay.

There’s plenty more delightful word trivia where that came from. For instance, the two longest words whose letters all appear in alphabetical order are “billowy” and “beefily.” Conversely, “sponged” and “wronged” are the two longest words with all their letters in reverse alphabetical order.

The shortest word containing all five vowels in alphabetical sequence is “facetious,” while the shortest one containing each of the five vowels in reverse order, with each appearing only once, is “unnoticeably.”

“Redivider” is the longest palindromic word in the English language.

“Overstuffed” and “understudy” each contain four consecutive letters (RSTU) in alphabetical order.

Lederer isn’t just a wordsmith; he’s a lettersmith as well. Who else would point out that H, I, O, and X are the only letters that look the same when seen in a mirror…even when they’re being viewed upside down!

Fans of presidential anagrams will enjoy some of Lederer’s efforts in that area, including: “He did view the war doings” (Dwight David Eisenhower); “Loved horse; tree, too” (Theodore Roosevelt); A rare, calm jester (James Earl Carter); and “Insane Anglo warlord” (Ronald Wilson Reagan).

Looking to stump your friends in a game of Hangman? Try using crypt, nymph, rhythm or their plurals, since none contains an A, E, I, O, or U.

In another of his books, “Crazy English,” Lederer rhapsodizes about lengthy words like “inappropriateness,”a seventeen-letter noun, “incomprehensibility,” which is two letters longer, and the 28-letter “antidisestablishmentarianism.” The definitions of the first two words cited here are self-evident. The third, unsurprisingly, means: “A doctrine against the dissolution of the establishment.” This brings to mind a three-letter word which, when spelled backward, is the title of a Paul Newman movie: duh!

Try as I might, I cannot choose my favorite Richard Lederer bon mot. Think it’s easy? Good luck selecting the best of this tiny sampling of his gems.

“Writing is a way to capture fleeting thoughts and immortalize them on paper.”

“Reading is like traveling through time and space without leaving your chair.”

“Language is a playground, and grammar is the rulebook.”

“Words have the power to hurt, heal, inspire, and transform.”

“The more words you know, the more ideas you can express.”

“Language is a living organism that evolves and adapts over time.”

“It’s not what you say, it’s what people hear.”

“Language is a dance – a delicate balance of rhythm, melody, and meaning.”

“The secret to good writing is rewriting.”

“Language is the foundation of civilization. It is the glue that holds a people together.”

It’s hard to ascertain which English language writer has penned the greatest number of published words. Some have speculated it’s William Shakespeare. Others point to Agatha Christie, whose books have sold over a billion copies in English and another billion in other languages, or L. Ron Hubbard, who was credited with 1084 published works. But I think that when it comes to writing words about words, Richard Lederer has easily outdone them all.

Now if only I can find a bookkeeper who assesses such things to confirm it. <

Insight: Class is in session

By Ed Pierce
Managing Editor

Teachers are the heart and soul of the American educational system, but it took me marrying one to fully appreciate all they do for us.

Here are a few examples of things that I have observed in the 20 years I have been married to a grade-school teacher:

At the elementary school she taught at in Florida when we first met, she had 22 students in her class. The school had a copy machine exclusively for teachers but to hold down expenses, it would limit teachers to 10 copies made per day. If my wife had to give a test that day, she’d have to plan for it three days ahead based upon her daily copy limitation.

The same thing applied for student handouts or anything else needing to be copied, therefore, to create more flexibility, some teachers would have to negotiate with other teachers who were not making copies that school day. More often it resulted in teachers purchasing a copier for their homes and meant the teacher paid the additional expense of buying copier ink, paper and the copier itself.

Weekends were supposed to be days off for teachers, but a good portion of that is spent grading a mountain of papers or preparing lesson plans for the coming week. Contrary to what I thought previously, most teachers don’t just stand before their students and wing it, they have a plan for everything they want to instruct and developing those plans takes hours of work.

Record-keeping for teachers is also time-consuming. It used to be grades were entered into a teacher’s notebook, but these days grades are kept digitally and navigating that process is not always easy. One year, while adjusting to a new record-keeping software system, all the additional comments my wife entered for student report cards were published twice for some inexplicable reason. The double comments were flagged by the school principal and all her report cards had to be redone at the last minute before being sent home with the students.

One year my wife was assigned to a classroom without a bathroom. Her students had to leave the classroom and walk several doors down to use the restroom. On the first day students had returned to school after two weeks off for the Christmas holidays, a student asked if he could use the restroom, and my wife allowed him to. She asked him to return to the classroom as soon as he was done. It happened to be the lunch period for some other classes at the school and after a few minutes had elapsed, the principal showed up at the classroom door with the student who had left for the restroom.

It seems the student had entered an unlocked classroom of students who were gone for lunch, and he was caught going through the purse of the teacher in that classroom. When asked, he said he was told his teacher wanted to wish the teacher whose purse he was rifling through a “Happy New Year.” That student wasn’t allowed to leave for the restroom unaccompanied again that school year, giving plenty of work to an ed tech assigned to my wife’s classroom.

No matter how hard she tried to help him, that student’s grades never improved and by the end of the school year, he failed to meet the minimum standards to advance to the next grade. My wife recommended to his mother that having him repeat that grade might give him a better grasp of reading and math. However, the student’s mother chose not to hold him back and instead pulled him out of public school and entered him in the next grade at a nearby charter school.

One story that left me scratching my head was about a reading coach at the school. This woman had been a classroom teacher at one time but over the years had been promoted to a position overseeing reading activities and lessons at the school. To help her, the school district gave her volumes of books and instructional materials to share with the teachers to help them boost student reading.

But the reading coach refused to share any of the books with the teachers. She insisted the best way to instruct reading was to read to students attending the school. To get her to visit their classrooms, teachers had to make an appointment and when she was available, she would come in and read to students.

During another school year, my wife was assigned a student who was represented by an attorney. That same class had a defiant student who refused to do his assignment. When my wife asked him to try, he said, “No.” When asked again, he said, “What am I speaking Spanish? I said no.”

My wife’s teaching career included many moments of triumph and success for her students and recently a student she taught in the 1990s reached out to thank her for inspiring her. That student is now a psychologist in Ohio. Many of my wife’s past students are now parents of their own with kids in school themselves.

Teaching is a noble profession that shapes the future, and in my opinion is greatly unappreciated. <

Andy Young: Going nuts over acorns

By Andy Young

Recently I was entertaining company when a sudden noise coming from outside the house made my guest pause mid-sentence and murmur, with a concerned expression, “That sounds like gunfire.” Chuckling knowingly, I explained it was just the sound of acorns falling onto my garage’s roof.

Moments later we heard a sudden rat-a-tat-tat that sounded like machine gun fire. I don’t want friends thinking I reside in a war zone, but that second volley was indeed alarming. Thankfully, it was just another fusillade of acorns coming down in rapid fire fashion on my neighbor's metal roof.

Were acorns locusts, people would be describing what’s currently going on in southern Maine in biblical terms. There is no overstating how many of these ovine nuts are being produced by the oak trees along my street.

There’s always a reason for what Mother Nature does, even if human beings can’t always understand her rationale. I know next to nothing about dendrology (the study of trees; I looked it up), but that ignorance allows me to make up my own explanations regarding why certain things occur (and what’s going to happen as a result) without being contradicted by any pesky documented facts about the subject. Intelligence and education can be awfully inconvenient at times, but fortunately I don’t have that problem when it comes to science.

Or in many other areas, now that I think of it.

I’ve decided that because of all these acorns there’s going to be a bumper crop of small rodents around here next year, since they’re currently stockpiling acorns, and will no doubt be gorging themselves on them this winter.

I’d like to take this opportunity to invite any winged predators who can read this to take up residence rent-free in any tree in my neighborhood. It’d be nice to thin the chipmunk population, since they’ve been a local scourge for the past few years. Given that most of these objectionable rodents will be all but inert next summer thanks to their upcoming gluttony, well, it’s likely that any nearby owls, hawks, or falcons will be looking at a potential cornucopia thanks to the hundreds of morbidly obese chipmunks and squirrels that are all but certain to be waddling around next year. It’ll be like shooting fish in a barrel for any flying carnivore.

The only reason the local rodent population hasn't exploded even further is that there’s competition when it comes to consuming the ongoing oak-provided bounty. Pigeons, ducks, woodpeckers and other birds go for acorns because they’re high in vitamins, carbohydrates, and good fats. Blue Jays have been known to bury acorns and go back to recover them months later.

Bears, possums, and raccoons are all acorn-consumers, too. Another fun fact: acorns can make up 25 percent of a deer’s autumn diet.

So why can’t hungry humans eat some of this fall’s acorn bounty? Well, they taste pretty bitter for one thing. They also contain tannins, which are complex chemical substances derived from phenolic acids. Tannins are considered nutritionally undesirable for humans, even though they can, in low doses, stimulate the immune system and help lower blood pressure and cholesterol. Unfortunately, ingesting too many of them can irritate the stomach lining and intestines, which can cause kidney damage. Tannins can also be toxic to certain animals, so don’t feed acorns to your dog, horse, pig, or sheep.

Eating acorns can harm humans, yet mice, squirrels, chipmunks and deer can munch on them to their little hearts’ content. How does that make sense?

I wonder if an owl or a hawk could take down an acorn-bloated possum, deer, or bear? <

Insight: What’s in a Name?

By Ed Pierce
Managing Editor

The process of creating a nickname for professional athletes has always fascinated me.

Billy Scripture's nickname given to 
him by his fellow ballplayers was
'Old Hardrock.' He could demonstrate
chewing the horsehide off baseballs
for anyone who asked him to.
COURTESY PHOTO  

Some are derived from physical characteristics such as football’s William “The Refrigerator” Perry, so named for his size or Ed “Too Tall” Jones for being an overly large 6-foot-9 defensive end. Then there’s baseball’s Walt “No Neck” Williams stemming from a typhus injection he received as a baby that left him with an overtly short neck, Mark “The Bird” Fidrych for his resemblance to the Sesame Street character Big Bird, or Rusty “Le Grande Orange” Staub, who was so dubbed by French-speaking fans of the old Montreal Expos who admired his flaming red hair.

Basketball has Dennis “The Worm” Rodman who earned the name for the way he wriggled around when playing pinball, Larry “The Hick from French Lick” Bird, who grew up in French Lick, Indiana, and David “The Admiral” Robinson whose nickname pays homage to the time he served in the U.S. Navy.

But my all-time favorite nickname for an athlete is for a minor league baseball player you might not have heard of.

Billy “Old Hardrock” Scripture had that nickname hung on him supposedly for his penchant for munching on rocks with his strong teeth. It wasn’t true, he preferred chewing the horsehide off baseballs.

Earl Wayne “Billy” Scripture had been a star high school quarterback, wrestler, and baseball outfielder at Princess Anne High School in Virginia and earned a baseball scholarship to play at the college level for Wake Forest University. He led his team to consecutive Atlantic Coast Conference titles and was honored as a NCAA All-American before being drafted by the Baltimore Orioles to play professionally.

Working his way up to the Orioles’ top farm team, the Rochester Red Wings in 1968, Scripture was admired for his on-field hustle and never-say-die attitude. He personified toughness, refusing to acknowledge pain when hit by a pitch in his jaw.

According to Scripture, his practice of chewing on baseballs began as a nervous habit while sitting in the dugout at the old Silver Stadium in Rochester and watching his friend and teammate, Merv Rettenmund, batting during games.

Instead of chewing bubble gum, tobacco or sunflower seeds, Scripture would use his teeth to loosen up the heavily stitched seams and then proceed to rip the cover off baseballs. It was a unique talent that drew the scorn of dentists but bonded him forever with teammates and fans.

His ascent to the major leagues stalled because of Scripture’s inability to hit a curveball and by 1972, his playing days were at an end without ever reaching the majors. He was offered a minor league managing position by the Kansas City Royals and skippered teams in the Midwest League, the Gulf Coast League and the Southern League. In 1978, Scripture managed a minor league team for the Pittsburgh Pirates in the Western Carolina League, and he returned as a manager one last time in 1984 to guide the Nashua Pirates in the Eastern League.

Among the players he managed who reached the majors are outfielder Bobby Bonilla, pitcher Dave Dravecky and infielder Ron Washington, who currently serves as the manager of the Los Angeles Angels.

To impress young ballplayers with his toughness, he once climbed a light tower to do chin-ups, or he would let the pitching machine bounce fastballs off his chest.

But nothing compared to Scripture demonstrating for sportswriters while managing the Jacksonville Suns in 1975 how to chew the cover off a Spaulding baseball.

He explained that his frustration intensified as a manager, and he would chew baseballs to alleviate gametime stress.

“Only lost one molar so far, and that's a whole lot less expensive than an ulcer operation," Scripture told reporters.

The trainer for the Royals, Mickey Cobb, said that Scripture was oblivious to pain and before a spring training game, he noticed Scripture had 19 blisters on one hand from hitting fly balls for outfielders.

Cobb said Scripture walked into the dugout and poured rubbing alcohol over the blisters and refused any Band-Aids for them. Later that same day, he saw Scripture having other coaches hit fly balls to the outfield so he could demonstrate to players the best way to run head-on into a chain-link fence.

After leaving baseball, Scripture spent a lot of time training labrador retriever dogs. He was a duck hunting guide and would compete in trap shooting competitions. He became so proficient at it that he became a director of trap and skeet shooting clubs in Indiana, Nevada, Texas, and Florida.

In 1968, I remember going to a Rochester Red Wings game against the Toledo Mud Hens and when the game ended, a few players stood by the dugout signing autographs for fans. I approached Billy Scripture and asked him if he would sign my program for the game.

“Why would you want a silly autograph when you can have something of mine even better,” he asked me.

Giving him a puzzled look, Scripture handed me a tiny knawed-on piece of a baseball. It sat for a week on my bedroom dresser before my mother tossed it in the garbage as if it were trash.

Who knows what it might be worth today?

Andy Young: Five thumbs, four of them up

By Andy Young

Not long ago I was coming home from work when I ran into one of my favorite people walking along the country lane I was navigating.

I’d like this person even if we didn’t have so much in common. We’re neighbors, we both have three children, we’re both educators, and we share similar views on various contemporary issues. It was a beautiful afternoon, and since the street corner where our paths crossed wasn’t heavily traveled, we enjoyed an impromptu visit.

We chatted about the beautiful weather, caught up on the doings of our respective families, then compared notes on the start of the school year.

From there we moved on to the topic of books, at which point my neighbor told me I must read a work of fiction called The House in the Cerulean Sea. Its messages, she told me, are ones everyone should hear. Her recommendation was made with an uncommon amount of zeal, even for someone who is by nature enthusiastic. I wrote down the name of the book and the author (T. J. Klune), then wished her well and moved on. But for reasons I still don’t fully understand, her last four words (“Everyone should read it!”) remained etched in my memory.

I didn’t want to disappoint my friend/neighbor, but the truth is I don’t read much fiction. Tastes vary in literature, just as they do when it comes to food. I intensely dislike parmesan cheese and feel similarly about turnips, yet others enjoy those things. Conversely, I love stewed tomatoes, which others detest. For me fiction, particularly the fantasy genre, is particularly pungent cheese. I would never tell my sweet, kind neighbor I wasn’t going to read what she had complimented so ardently, but I already had a stack of books nearly as tall as I am in the “to be read” queue.

However, the next day a student in one of my Grade 12 English classes who sports a significant amount of metallic facial jewelry arrived at school carrying a copy of the very book my neighbor had lavished praise on. When I asked about it the response was another rave review, along with four suddenly familiar words: “Everyone should read it.”

Later I asked another avid bibliophile if they’d heard of The House in the Cerulean Sea. The instant reply: an appreciative grin, and an aside about how much they loved one of the book’s more memorable characters.

Endorsements from three unrelated individuals in a short period of time cannot be coincidence, so I went to the library, found a copy of the book, and perused the synopsis on the back cover.

The words I read didn’t describe subject matter I’d have chosen on my own. In fact, to me they vaguely brought to mind something along the lines of literary Parmesan. But remembering my neighbor’s zeal, the bejeweled student’s endorsement, and the voracious reader’s genuine appreciation, I decided to give it a try.

Four days and 390 pages later I finished it.

Without that trio of recommendations, I’d have never tried reading The House in the Cerulean Sea. But my neighbor, the student with the multiple piercings, and the world-class reader were right. The book is indeed terrific, and truly does contain important and powerful messages.

Okay, full disclosure: after the fact, my cousin, an intelligent person who also loves reading, said she absolutely hated the book. But then, perhaps she loves turnips. Nevertheless, the verdict is in. Scientifically conducted research reveals that 80 percent of the respondents to my exhaustive survey recommend that everyone should read The House in the Cerulean Sea! <

Rookie Mama: Crock and roll all night (and soccer every day)

By Michelle Cote

Here we go, Crocktober – Slow cookers are the savory secret weapon to feeding my entire brood throughout this season.

Ladies of a certain age may recall the classic ‘Mall Madness’ game – Folks, what we’ve entered is truly ‘Fall Madness’ – We’ve buttoned down summer, deflated pool floats, and autumnal sports are gorgeously in full swing, with blazing reds and golds saturating all surrounding foliage that envelopes every soccer field gorgeously here in the Northeast.

But how do parents find time to cart their kiddos to said gorgeous sports fields during the already sparingly few hours separating the school day’s last bell from the dinner bell, which ultimately leads to homework and bedtime routine’s slow roll?

Well, friends, it looks like crock and roll is here to stay.

Slow cookers, to me, are the working-class alternative to hiring a personal chef who spends all day whipping you up a scrumptious stew as you work and tend to business as usual.

There are hundreds of slow cooker recipes to suit a variety of dietary needs, and mouthwatering options abound for entrees, desserts, beverages, galore.

I’ve even made a decent yogurt – It’s easier than you’d think.

Some crock inserts can even be removed and placed in an oven for dishes that may need broiling or that certain crispy je-ne-said-quoi, such as a whole chicken flanked by potatoes, carrots, and all the mouthwatering flavors of fall spice and everything nice.

This, readers, is something I only learned of in the past five years. Always a rookie.

Slow cooker recipes are often as uncomplicated as you want them to be, can be prepared ahead of time – freezer meals for the win! – and literally dumped in as you run out the door.

Just don’t forget to switch it on – Set it and forget it.

Forget cleaning, too – For the truly lazy-man’s experience, one can purchase slow cooker liners and place them in your insert ahead of dumping in ingredients.

Then, you only need to remove and toss the bag after dining’s done; no need to soak and scrub the crock.

Your house will smell heavenly with a butternut squash soup or beef stew on, which is perfectly timed with windows snapping back shut after those hot summer nights are truly wrapped up ‘til next time.

Slow cookers also offer up nourishing dishes and soups that proactively combat those sniffles – or assist during recovery – because ‘tis that season, too.

I also appreciate that Crockpots are a most fabulous way to utilize your remaining fresh garden abundance. While I blanch and freeze most excess harvest so my family can eat homegrown produce all winter long, there’s nothing like freshly grown goods and spices added in a hot, tasty dish.

Although I seriously have no idea how I’ll find enough varied recipes for all those summer squashes – Yikes.

Most of all, slow cookers offer up ultimate convenience. They use very minimal energy and were designed for mamas in their soccer season.

They’re low maintenance, cost effective, who could ask for anything more?

And if you do ask for anything more, buy a second slow cooker – I use two at once frequently, because that comes with the territory of having a large family and hankerings for lots of the leftovers.

So, crock around the clock tonight – Enjoy your slow cooker era, an idea truly worth warming up to.

Consume hearty food – not precious time.

Just don’t forget to bring the crusty bread for dunking.

Who knows, you may have some free time to play a round of two of Mall Madness.

­­– Michelle Cote lives in southern Maine with her husband and four sons, and enjoys camping, distance running, biking, gardening, road trips to new regions, arts and crafts, soccer, and singing to musical showtunes – often several or more at the same time!

Insight: Life in the Moment

By Ed Pierce
Managing Editor

With yet another birthday less than three months away, I recently was fortunate to watch a video of Oprah Winfrey visiting with Al Roker to help him overcome his fear of turning 70.

Ed Pierce, age 7, Brighton, New York, 1961

Roker said he had experienced some trepidation about reaching his 70th birthday and sought out Oprah’s advice about reaching that milestone in life.

Her advice to him was encouraging and she told him she felt great peace and a sense of calm when she turned 70.

“I felt a sense of knowing there’s not as much time left and yet a sense of urgency about living well,” she said. “I think it’s all about being able to live in the present moment and worry about things as they show up.”

Oprah also told him she feels at age 70 that the greatest gift she has to offer people in her life is her love.

“70 is a number but it’s nothing to be worried about,” she said. “Don’t be scared.”

Roker told Oprah that he liked her confidence and enthusiasm about being 70 years old and he hoped to apply it to his own life.

She emphasized to him that by the age of 70, most of us have conquered the most significant issues that younger people struggle with, such as career, family or health issues.

“You’ve already overcome some of the greatest challenges,” Oprah said. “What is amazing is that your heart has been pumping and pumping right on time for 69 years just for you. Don’t be scared.”

Hearing that interview, I came to realize that in having already passed the age of 70 myself, I have nothing to stress about when it comes to age.

I’ve survived some of life’s most intimidating moments. I’ve overcome many challenges and obstacles thrown my way and been able to accomplish many things I never thought possible.

When I was 45, my doctor told me after exploratory surgery and having been diagnosed with cancer that I probably wouldn’t live another 90 days.

At the age of 32, I gave up my military career for an opportunity to finish my college degree and with the hopes of being able to pursue a career in journalism.

At the age of 50, I found genuine and lasting love and got married to my wife Nancy after having been single for 13 years. I also became a stepfather to three great young men at that same time after living for more than a half century without being a parent.

At the age of 12, I was selected to play in the Brighton (NY) Little League All-Star Game in my fifth season of playing. I hit a home run in that game after having gone through my first two seasons at age 7 and 8 without ever getting a hit and striking out in every single at bat.

At the age of 53, I purchased my first home and was finally able to afford to do it after years of renting townhouses and living in apartments.

At the age of 35, I earned a Bachelor of Arts degree in journalism from the University of New Mexico after having first entered college 17 years before. I had dropped out after three years and lost half of my credits when I transferred to a different college and then resumed my studies after getting out of the U.S. Air Force.

At the age of 23, I was living in Germany and got to travel extensively throughout Europe as a member of the U.S. military. I have so many great memories of places and sights that many people will never experience like visiting the Cologne Cathedral or the real Oktoberfest in Germany or touring Anne Frank’s Home in Amsterdam in the Netherlands.

At the age of 29, I was in Las Vegas, Nevada during the World Series and watched as my favorite team, the Baltimore Orioles, defeated the Philadelphia Phillies to win the championship. That was the third time in my lifetime that I have celebrated as my Orioles won the World Series title and some people are fans of teams that have never even played in the World Series.

At the age of 5, my last grandparent died, and I grew up without any living grandparents. Fortunately, our family friends Bill and Ida Topham stepped in and served as excellent foster grandparents and role models for me.

At the age of 37, I struggled and was distraught when a drunk driver in Florida struck and killed my father as he drove on a stretch of highway near Orlando. I experienced a tragedy and rode the roller coaster of grief for months and years afterward. It is certainly something I do not want to go through again, but knowing I endured the pain of that loss and am still standing today counts for something.

I have to say that I agree with Oprah and am not scared about what may lie ahead in the future after going through many of the experiences that I have in my life.

Age is indeed only a number and as I await another birthday, I’m eager to see what’s in store next.

Maine’s system of voting for president is fair, unique and should be a model for other states

By Barbara Bagshaw

Previously, I have expressed concern with proposals to nullify the voices of Maine citizens by making radical changes to our elections. Specifically, I wrote that the national Popular Vote Interstate Compact approved by Maine lawmakers, if allowed to stand by the courts, would give our state’s four electoral votes to the candidate who won the most popular votes nationwide. This would make the choices of Mainers irrelevant and cede power to large states with big cities like California and New York.

State Rep. Barbara Bagshaw

I like the current system which awards 1 electoral vote per Maine congressional district and 2 to the candidate that wins Maine. That system has resulted in several candidate visits to Maine even though other small states have been ignored.

That is why this week’s comments by Maine House Majority Leader Mo Terry (D-Gorham) that we may be “compelled” to consider a special session if the Nebraska legislature changes its system of awarding delegates by congressional district. Maine and Nebraska are the only states that do this.

I am a problem solver committed to good policy, not partisan theatrics. Just because another state chooses to engage in national partisan politics ahead of the November election does not mean that Maine should change their system just because of Nebraska.

I agree with House Minority Leader Billy Bob Faulkingham when he said: “Maine has the gold standard of presidential election processes in the United States. “We should be trying to convince other states to use a more representative process like ours, not change to winner-take-all like other states.”

I have enjoyed representing Windham in the legislature. Our caring community is special. The biggest issue I have with the Maine legislature is that the majority is too concerned with making Maine more like other urban places instead of focusing on everyday concerns like high prices, high energy costs, high taxes, and our housing crisis.

Maine should do what is best for Maine and always remember what makes our state special. I am not in favor of calling a special session right before the November election just because party leaders want to change the rules to favor one candidate over another. Let people make their choices in November. That is democracy!

It is an honor to represent part of Windham in the Legislature. If there is any way that I can be of assistance, please contact me at barbara.bagshaw@legislature.maine.gov .My office phone number is 207-287-1440. You can find me on Facebook. To receive regular updates, sign up for my e-newsletter at https://mainehousegop.org/ <

Andy Young: Miss Cooney's legacy

By Andy Young

As America approaches another presidential election that’s almost guaranteed to leave at least half the nation somewhere between disillusioned and apoplectic, I can’t help thinking about my middle school English and social studies teacher.

Marie Cooney had the misfortune of having me and several similar infantile misanthropes-in-training in her fifth grade class. Then, as if the poor woman hadn’t suffered enough, she got most of us again for Grade Six.

Miss Cooney must have been a good history teacher. She’s the sole reason I still remember that the fertile crescent, consisting of Sumer and Mesopotamia, was located near the confluence of the Tigris and Euphrates rivers.

And my ability to differentiate between nouns, verbs, adverbs, and adjectives speaks to her effectiveness as an English teacher, although she’ll have to share credit for whatever level of literacy I’ve attained with Mrs. Hartley, Mr. Desser, Miss Shanley, Miss Bittner, Mr. Fusco, Mrs. Weston, Mrs. Martin, Mr. Cox, and the other English teachers whose classrooms I took up space in.

But Miss Cooney’s greatest impact involved the student council. As newly minted fifth graders, my classmates and I were middle school neophytes, and it was up to our social studies teachers to not only introduce us to the concept of student government, but to find candidates who were willing and able to serve as class representatives.

Miss Cooney stressed the importance and gravity of the student council. Which, in retrospect, she may have been doing for the sole purpose of discouraging people like me and my similarly immature pals from taking part in the process.

“Student council is important,” she intoned. “Only serious people should consider running for representative; it’s not a popularity contest.”

She needn’t have worried about me running for one of those council seats. I was too busy playing whatever sport was in season and vying for the title of class clown to take the time to actually write a speech I’d subsequently have to deliver to my peers at an all-school assembly.

And even if I’d had the courage and work ethic required to do all that, the possibility of losing an election was more than enough to keep me away from participating. If there was anything more important to 11-year-old me than achieving acceptance and popularity, I wasn’t aware of it.

Looking back, Miss Cooney’s patience and skills as an educator must have done me some good. True, she told my mother I was an underachiever, but I can’t hold that against her, particularly since it was true.

At least she didn’t add “disruptive influence,” like a certain art teacher who shall remain nameless did. And for the record, those other spitball-shooting, clay-throwing kids didn’t need me to encourage them; they were more than capable of being disruptions on their own.

Miss Cooney died long ago. But if reincarnation truly exists and one’s future life is based upon what they did or didn’t do in their previous one, she ought to be living a charmed existence, albeit inside a new outer shell, and with a different name. She deserves at least that much.

But though I doubt she meant to, Miss Cooney misinformed us about one important thing. American elections truly are popularity contests.

And seeing what blindly ambitious and/or selfishly motivated individuals are willing to do to make themselves or the candidate(s) they work for more popular, it’s no wonder that come November 6, I may well be one of the people referenced in this essay’s initial sentence. <

Insight: A Rock n’ Roll Friendship

By Ed Pierce
Managing Editor

I’ve made plenty of friends throughout my lifetime, some from school, some from my time in the U.S. Air Force, and some from work. But I find it hard to fathom that I met one of my best friends through a complaint.

Bruce Martin is the creator and driving force behind a 
nonprofit organization which raises money for the
Ronald McDonald House of Portland through
hosting rock n 'roll dances twice a year.
PHOTO BY ED PIERCE    

A few years ago, I was the Executive Editor of a daily newspaper, and I was arriving back at work one morning when I heard a loud discussion taking place at the receptionist’s front desk. A gentleman was asking to speak to someone in charge to file a complaint.

With many newspaper staffers not yet having arrived for their shift in the newsroom, it fell upon me to deal with the situation. I walked over to the receptionist and asked if I could be of some sort of help.

She told me this man’s name was Bruce Martin and he wanted to know why Elvis Presley’s name was not included in a photo caption published in the newspaper.

To calm the situation, I asked Bruce to follow me back to my desk and to talk with me to resolve the issue. He did and I was able to find out more about what he was complaining about.

Bruce had founded a nonprofit organization that staged dances featuring rock n’ roll music and raised money for the Ronald McDonald House. Through ticket sales to the dances, donations from the community and other types of raffles and silent auctions, the organization had been able to raise thousands and was Ronald McDonald House’s primary community fundraiser for the entire state.

He told me that having an article in the newspaper was beneficial to promoting these dances but that in a recent article, a photo accompanying the article omitted an important name. He reached into his pocket and retrieved the article to show me what he was talking about.

I examined the article and looked closely at the photo caption. It described an event where members of the nonprofit organization presented a representative from Ronald McDonald House with a check for more than $9,000 from a recent dance.

The photograph’s caption listed the names of those who participated. But Bruce pointed out to me that the name of a person in the back row was not listed in the photo caption.

Several years prior to that, a committee member of the nonprofit had donated a cardboard cutout of Elvis Presley to display at the dances. It was used frequently for taking selfie photos with the display and according to Bruce had become synonymous with the nonprofit.

The cutout’s continued popularity meant that organization volunteers would take it with them to events and fundraising activities. Bruce told me that several years before this most recently published article, our own newspaper had included the name of Elvis in the photo caption.

By this point in our discussion, I remained somewhat skeptical about including a cutout in the listing of names in the caption, so to put Bruce more at ease, I began to ask about how he came to found the organization.

While on a visit to Walmart, Bruce had noticed a young boy with his mother. The child was seriously ill, and Bruce asked the mother if there was anything he could do to help. She told him that the boy had cancer, and they were there to go shopping for items he could take with him to the hospital as he was going to be admitted for treatment.

I learned that Bruce was a former police officer and state game warden. He had served in the U.S. Army and was a huge fan of 1960s Motown music. He was semi-retired and had worked trapping and relocating nuisance animals in the area. He also would occasionally serve as a DJ for parties and school reunion gatherings nearby.

He had a heart of gold and after meeting the boy with cancer and his mother, Bruce took the bold step of staging a rock n’ roll dance and donating all proceeds from the event to Ronald McDonald House which assists families of children undergoing treatment at local hospitals by offering them shelter and meals at no cost and at a most critical time.

Hearing his story, I couldn’t help but be moved by it and I told Bruce that when a similar sort of photo including the Elvis cutout is used in future editions of the newspaper, we would include his name in the caption.

We shook hands and he left the newspaper office, and I thought my involvement with him was finished. That evening over dinner, I shared with my wife that I had met Bruce that day, and how I had resolved the issue.

She told me that going to the dances sounded like fun. We called Bruce and he was able to obtain tickets for us for the next dance. The organization has two dances every year and we haven’t missed one since.

Bruce and I have become great friends. My wife Nancy and I serve on his committee of dance volunteers and believe it or not, we each have taken selfie photos with the cutout.

And our journey to friendship started with a complaint about Elvis. <

Jane Pringle: Protecting Maine lakes and wildlife

By State Rep. Jane Pringle

As we enjoy these final moments of summer and anticipate the beginning of autumn, I am reminded of how beautiful it is to watch the landscape change with the seasons. Here in Windham, we are fortunate to have so much surrounding natural splendor, chief among them Sebago Lake.

State Rep. Jane Pringle

This lake – and all Maine lakes – are vital to our way of life, not only because they serve as crucial natural resources but because they are also a key symbol of our state’s heritage. Recognizing their immense importance, the 131st Legislature prioritized enacting measures dedicated to upholding and protecting Maine’s inland water ecosystems.

The Legislature understands that the ever-growing risk posed by invasive aquatic plants to our state’s inland waters requires continued effort. With this in mind, my colleagues and I passed a bill this year that will increase funding so the Department of Environmental Protection and the Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife can increase efforts to prevent and control the spread of invasive species.

Both departments play crucial roles in mitigating the devastating impact that invasive aquatic species can have on our water quality, ecosystems and even our property values. With this additional funding, these departments can better ensure that necessary resources are available to continuously and effectively combat these threats to our freshwater systems.

In an effort to continue protecting the wildlife that inhabits Maine’s lakes, my colleagues and I united to pass two pivotal pieces of bipartisan legislation. The first, co-sponsored by my fellow Lake Region legislators, Sen. Tim Nangle and Rep. Jess Fay, strengthens local control by empowering municipalities across the state with the necessary tools to more effectively enforce shoreland zoning laws designed to protect water quality and wildlife.

Previously, towns struggled to implement environmental measures, which often resulted in misunderstandings and lengthy lawsuits between towns and residents who violated zoning ordinances, such as cutting down protected trees. This measure enables towns to restrict, suspend or revoke locally issued permits that violate zoning laws, holding violators accountable and easing the financial strain on local taxpayers from potential legal battles.

The second measure addresses the unintended consequences of wakesurfing on inland wildlife. While this popular pastime brings joy to boaters and spectators, it has been shown to have a significant impact on the ecosystem and geography of our lakes. Wakesurfing uses the full-throttle power of a motorboat to generate large waves, which crash against the shores, causing erosion and threatening the nests of common loons.

The new law prohibits operating a motorboat in less than 15 feet of water or within 300 feet of the shoreline while wakesurfing. It’s crucial to balance responsibly enjoying this sport with preserving our lakes, and the Legislature carefully crafted this measure to protect our lakes’ geography and wildlife while still allowing for summertime fun.

The measures above are only a sampling of the work we’ve done over the last two years to protect our state’s inland waters, but they show our commitment and dedication to preserving the beauty and integrity of Maine’s lakes. Through these efforts, iconic all-season retreats like Sebago Lake – and bodies of water throughout our beautiful state – will remain vibrant and healthy for generations to come.

State Rep. Jane Pringle is serving her second, non-consecutive term in the Maine House and is a member of the Joint Standing Committee on Health Coverage, Insurance and Financial Services. <

Andy Young: Unsolved mysteries, part deux

By Andy Young

Last week I tried figuring out why so many otherwise well-adjusted adults experience pure joy watching their pint-sized offspring chase a soccer ball around, yet somehow morph into raving lunatics a decade later when their now-larger spawn get involved in games that, like the ones ten years earlier, have little to no long-term influence on the lives of the participants or the spectators.

It turns out irrational behavior at youth sports events isn’t the only thing I don’t understand.

Last Sunday was gorgeous, so I took a bike ride to Gray to run a couple of errands.

Unfortunately, the store I pedaled nine miles to get to didn’t have the specific item I was looking for. However, what was far more vexing involved something I see far too much of these days: trash, primarily bottles and cans, along the roads I was biking on.

I’ve never understood littering, an act requiring laziness, selfishness, and utter disregard for the planet inhabited by me, my family, my friends and the litterers themselves, among others. I’ve never met anyone who brags about what a great spreader of debris they are, or that their child is. No one I know boasts about how much garbage they toss out their car windows or deposit along hiking trails in the woods.

There are, to my knowledge, no litterer’s rights organizations, no littering clubs that take weekend outings to dispose of waste in and around state and national parks, and no National Trash-Strewers Association that lobbies Congress for less Draconian anti-littering laws, not that the ones currently on the books are having much effect.

I started counting the number of recently tossed soft-drink containers I passed on my bike ride, but lost track after hitting five dozen. Even more distressing: there’s every reason to believe there’s at least as much garbage on the side of the road I wasn’t biking on as well.

Had I stopped to pick up every deposit bottle or can I saw on my ride, I probably would have had at a nickel per container better than $3 worth of rubbish.

Full disclosure: shamefully, I did nothing to alleviate the mess along Route 115. I didn’t pick up even one piece of litter myself because: A) I’d have been stopping every 50 feet or so in order to grab every offending object I saw, plus I wanted to get home before dark, and: B) I’d have looked like the Hunchback of Notre Dame with all those cans and bottles in my backpack.

Actually, my backpack would have been stuffed to capacity long before I hit the Windham town line. In fact, had I been driving and stopping to pick up all the refuse I saw, I’d have easily filled my car’s trunk, and maybe the back seat as well.

It’s reasonable to assume that litter along roadways has been tossed there by drivers rather than pedestrians. Few people take nature walks along the roads I was traveling, where the posted speed limit along the sidewalkless part of the route is 50 mph. This is where my inability to understand gets even deeper.

What is so tough about keeping one’s trash inside their car until arriving someplace where there’s a receptacle specifically designed to receive rubbish? Trash cans can often be found outside places of business, or in public parks. Some crazy neat freaks like me even keep trash cans inside our homes!

But enough venting. I suppose I should stop complaining and count my many blessings. At least there aren’t any youth littering competitions with corporate sponsorships being televised on ESPN.

Yet. <

Tim Nangle: Remembering 9/11, Honoring first responders

By Senator Tim Nangle

On September 11, we honor the memory of all those innocent lives tragically lost that day twenty-three years ago. We also remember the bravery and sacrifices of our first responders, who, without hesitation, answered the emergency call. While we hope never to experience an emergency to that scale in our communities, when we do call 9-1-1, we are counting on someone being there to respond. The events of 9/11 put a spotlight on the critical relationship between our communities and first responders, the role they play and the short- and long-term risks they take to keep us safe.

State Senator Tim Nangle

I’ve spent my life dedicated to public safety, first, as a 9-1-1 dispatcher, firefighter, and a police officer. I became a paramedic in 1998 and worked in cities north of Boston. I moved to Maine almost 35 years ago and started a family while serving in the Portland Fire Department for 27 years. While at Portland Fire, I started a blood drive program called “Roll Up Your Sleeves and Remember,” which was held on September 11. Because of this experience, I know how difficult and important is to ensure we have safely staffed, trained, and equipped personnel across police, fire, and emergency medical services so all can respond together. While some communities in my district rely on volunteers, all departments are struggling to keep services running with limited town, state and federal support.

Recently, there has been significant discussion about new federal emergency response standards from OSHA. While improving safety for EMS personnel is a valid goal, these regulations must consider the unique challenges facing Maine’s underfunded, volunteer-dependent departments. For example, Casco, with a year-round population of about 3,700 that swells to over 20,000 in the summer, could face severe challenges in complying with these standards. Chief Brian Cole of Casco Fire Rescue has raised concerns about the feasibility of meeting these requirements without additional financial support. Casco’s department handles up to 900 emergency calls a year with a combination of per diem and volunteer staff and doesn’t have the budget or staff time to implement these new regulations.

With already thin budgets and growing call volumes, our EMS departments are stretched to their limits. Any new federal regulations must support rather than strain these vital services. We’ve made some progress on these issues in Augusta, but we need bipartisan cooperation to allocate the necessary money.

Last year, we made a historic $31 million investment in EMS to sustain at-risk services statewide, ensuring that rural and underserved communities continue receiving emergency medical care when they need it most. We secured funding for the Length of Service Award Program, offering benefits to volunteer firefighters and EMS personnel, and invested in fire training facilities to keep our firefighters well-prepared.

This year, we passed legislation to increase MaineCare reimbursement rates for EMS providers. This simple change would have brought over $22 million in federal funding and allowed providers to be reimbursed for non-transport calls, vital to the public, but costly to the local taxpayer. Despite being supported by lawmakers in both chambers, the Appropriations Committee did not fund the bill. I’m committed not to giving up because we must ensure our EMS departments have the resources they need to serve their communities.

In the next legislative session, I will continue to advocate for our first responders in Augusta and beyond, ensuring they have the money, tools, training, and support they need to do their jobs safely and effectively. Whether through increasing MaineCare reimbursements, improving pay and benefits for first responders, or securing additional federal funding for departments, I remain committed to ensuring that no community is left without the emergency services they depend on.

As we honor all the lives lost on 9/11, let it also be a reminder of the tireless work of our first responders right here in Maine, who protect us every day, and how we must continue to support these essential services.

Contact me directly at Timothy.Nangle@legislature.maine.gov or call the Senate Majority Office at 207-287-1515. For the latest updates, follow me on Facebook at facebook.com/SenatorTimNangle, and sign up for my e-newsletter at mainesenate.org. <

Insight: Beyond My Wildest Dreams

By Ed Pierce
Managing Editor

There’s an old Kris Kristofferson song called “Please Don’t Tell Me How The Story Ends,” and for me, it perfectly sums up where I’ve been for the past 20 years.

Nancy and Ed Pierce by Lake Ontario in 2006.
COURTESY PHOTO 

Back in 2004, I had been living in the same one-bedroom apartment for almost a decade, had been single for 13 years and poured myself into work because I had very little else going on. At the age of 50, it was depressing to come home each time to an empty apartment without much optimism for the future.

Then my life was totally turned upside down. Some of my co-workers at the newspaper I worked for thought that I should try internet dating and asked if they could create a profile for me. I reluctantly agreed but after a negative experience, I edited out much of the personal details from my listing. All that remained listed my gender, my age and the city I lived in. I thought nobody in their right mind would answer that ad and that my internet dating participation would come to an end.

Was I ever wrong. A woman living in the next town over sent me a note late in the month of May and asked how I could ever expect to get to know someone based upon the scant info that I had put out there on my listing. I answered her note with a lengthy reply about who I was, what my occupation was, and some of my likes and dislikes. I fully expected that to be the end of it and went back to my normal routine.

That evening, I received a reply, and it intrigued me. First, this woman could express herself in an email and she could spell correctly. I learned that she was an elementary school teacher and had moved to my area recently. We had similar tastes in music, food, politics, movies and a mutual love of ice cream.

Exchanging numerous emails, I learned that she had been divorced after 23 years of marriage and had three grown sons. She was originally from Burlington, Vermont and had a college degree in education from the University of Vermont. I looked forward to each subsequent email from her, and each one I received from her was the highlight of my day.

Before we ever shared photos of what we looked like, we had a few long telephone conversations, and I asked her if she would like to go out on a date with me. She thought that would be nice and agreed to meet me at a Friendly’s Restaurant after work on a Thursday. I pulled into the restaurant parking lot in my 1995 Pontiac Firebird and wondered how this would go. A few minutes later, a huge blue 1985 Ford Bronco pulled in next to me and this attractive woman stepped out wearing a handmade sign around her neck that read “Hi Ed.”

It broke the icy nervousness of meeting for the first time and as we sat down at a table in the restaurant, I started to realize how much I liked everything about her. She ordered vanilla ice cream, had sparkling blue eyes, lots of freckles and reddish-brown short hair. But the most important thing about her that I noticed was her incredible sense of humor and sense of sarcasm that matched mine perfectly.

Simply put, it was the best first date of my life, and we made plans to do something else again soon. We spoke on the phone for the next four days, but on the fifth day, she told me that I probably wasn’t going to want to date her anymore. She told me that she had found a lump in her breast and was going to have surgery after having been diagnosed with breast cancer.

Being a cancer survivor myself, I did my best to reassure her that she would be OK and that I wouldn’t give up on her so easily. Over the following weeks, I spent a lot of time at her apartment bringing her vanilla milkshakes and making sure that kept her spirits up. I went with her to her radiation and chemotherapy treatments. And I met her youngest son, Danny, who spent several weeks with her that summer to assist as she recovered from her surgery.

The longer I knew her, the closer I felt to her. She has three brothers and a sister, and one of her brothers, Rick, lived nearby and had played guitar for a band I liked in the 1980s called “Dr. Hook.” Meeting him for the first time, he asked me to rattle off how many Dr. Hook songs I could name, and he also asked me if my hair was real. I laughed as I had never been asked previously if my hair was my own, and it certainly is.

By that Christmas in 2004 she had moved in with me and brought along her dog. We were married on June 11, 2005, and our life together has now included homes and jobs in Florida, New Hampshire and Maine.

It’s said that love makes your soul crawl out from its hiding place and that rings true for me. I am perhaps the luckiest man ever to have found Nancy.

Andy Young: The mystery of the vanishing civility

By Andy Young

I began last Saturday morning by refereeing three youth soccer games. The participants were second and third graders.

After each contest had been completed, several different spectators went out of their way to thank me for refereeing their child’s (or in the case of people who look similar to me, their grandchild’s) game. I really appreciate being appreciated, so just for fun I started counting the individuals whose kindness made me feel good. Alas, I lost track after the 10th person, since I didn’t want to take off my cleats in public.

For the past decade or so I’ve been umpiring Little League baseball, and the post-game comments I receive are generally similar to those I get at soccer games. The players are a little older (up to age 12), but by and large the respect for (and appreciation of) adults in general and officials in particular is consistently good. Occasionally, a coach becomes over-excited in the heat of the moment, but on those infrequent occasions he (or she) always apologizes afterward for temporarily letting competitiveness get the better of them.

I mention this because I’ve attended numerous soccer, baseball, hockey, football and basketball games involving older kids over the past decade-plus, and in several different area towns. The children participating in those contests are anywhere from five to ten years older than the players in the games I currently officiate, as are, one assumes, their parents. When I go to these events I watch, with a reasonably unjaundiced eye, the game, the athletes playing in it, the people in the crowd, and the officials. It probably comes as no surprise that what I observe there is radically different from what I see each week at the second and third grade soccer games.

The skills of high school players are significantly greater than those of their pint-sized compatriots, and because of that the level of play involves a good deal more aggressiveness. But the biggest difference between youth sports and high school sports is the behavior of some of the adults, which quite naturally trickles down to many of the youthful and impressionable players.

Suffice it to say that I don’t see a lot of people going out of their way to thank the officials following pay-to-play travel team games, or after the conclusion of high school athletic competitions. I have, however, seen outwardly rational-looking individuals mutter or shout their disapproval throughout a game, then go out of their way to heap verbal abuse on referees and umpires afterward. The irony is that the vast majority of those people getting abused are far more accomplished at officiating youth sports than much-appreciated amateurs like me are.

Not every spectator at pay-to-play travel team games or high school athletic events foams at the mouth while directing comments toward officials (and occasionally coaches and/or players) that can’t be published in this or any other newspaper. After all, these aren't professional sports. There’s no prize for winning any particular game aside from the satisfaction of outscoring that day’s opponent.

The percentage of youthful athletes in Maine who’ll ultimately get athletic scholarships is small. The number who’ll ever make a living playing a sport professionally is far tinier.

Why, where youth sports are concerned, does civility begin vanishing as the participants age? When does this unattractive metamorphosis begin taking place? Who thinks supplanting unadulterated enjoyment with aggressiveness and antagonism is a good idea? And most mysterious of all, where do kindness, appreciation, respect and joy go after they’ve been supplanted by hypercompetitiveness?

Where are Sherlock Holmes, Nancy Drew, and Hercule Poirot when we need them? <

Jane Pringle: Medicare Savings Program expansion will help lower costs for older Mainers

By State Rep. Jane Pringle

Everyone wants to be able to age with dignity. But when I speak with many older constituents in our community, I often hear from people who are struggling to make ends meet. They’re worried about affording to age in their own homes, paying for groceries and keeping up with their monthly bills. One of the biggest concerns I hear from folks is about the high prices of the medication they need.

State Rep. Jane Pringle

In the Legislature, we’ve made it a priority to do everything we can to provide relief and lower these costs. This included passing legislation to expand eligibility for the Medicare Savings Program (MSP), which helps older people with lower incomes pay for some or all of their out-of-pocket costs for Medicare premiums, deductibles and copayments. It can also pay for the Part B premium, which is usually deducted from Social Security – putting real money back into people’s pockets.

This expansion is expected to affect more than 45,000 Mainers. While the amount of the benefit varies depending on the individual, it typically averages around $7,300 – which has the potential to be a lifeline that provides substantial relief. It won’t solve all of the concerns about costs, but it can hopefully help alleviate some of the anxiety that some older people are experiencing.

Making these changes to MSP was more than just good policy – it was simply the right thing to do. To learn more, you can reach all of the local Area Agencies on Aging by calling 1-877-elders-1 or 1-877-353-3771.

State Rep. Jane Pringle is serving her second, non-consecutive term in the Maine House and is a member of the Joint Standing Committee on Health Coverage, Insurance and Financial Services. <

Rookie Mama: Spending time over money – The most fantastic currency

By Michelle Cote
The Rookie Mama

We’ve turned that curve toward summer’s end – It’s ‘round the bend amid stacks of school supplies; color-coded folders and one-subject notebooks.

And that’s one subject for which I wish I could have procrastinated when August hit, but alas – It was go time.

Perhaps there’s no better time than now, in this season of transition, to remind ourselves to stay still when we can, in spite of constant motion and hair-on-fire parking spot searches coming in hot to soccer practice. (Guilty, on all counts).

Teeny, peaceful moments – the in between – can, and do exist.

Soak in moments, even though opportunities to soak sunlight’s slowly drawn its seasonal late-day curtain.

My family and I traveled to Quebec right before August’s intense ramping up of school-supply-shopping commenced into high gear, and I reminded myself silently to let points in time permeate a bit. To really live in the moment.

To not think ahead to school days and golden rule days, but to rather let these golden days rule.

Of our whole crew, I’m often the most destination-focused; we get to our point of disembarking, snap the photo with my right selfie-stick-style arm and inadvertently crop part of my head, then it’s go, go, go – Trek on. Next stop.

During this venture, I endeavored to mentally capture moments, remember the smells, the sights, the feelings, the sounds, the inevitable impromptu moments unscripted we’d all laugh about later, arm in arm with my husband and linked with our sweating, joyful children.

Quebec’s motto, ‘Je me souviens’, means ‘I remember,’ after all.

But what have I historically truly remembered beyond photographed evidence?

Upon returning home, I caught part of a video that upped this challenge ante – To not leave the house, even for a simple, mundane errand, without at least one child in tow.

Theoretically, solo focused time spent with one of your children allows for intentional conversations that wouldn’t otherwise take place at home with the whole herd – I have four children, and individualized, focused dialogue is a rarest luxury.

Speaking in complete sentences – What is this?

None of us are immune in a crew of six.

I tested this focused-time theory one recent afternoon as I shepherded my two middle guys up to camp for a quick luggage drop off. The otherwise totally un-glamorous task of unloading swim towel totes and Donettes into our camper was strikingly more memorable with the little ones than if I were solo, indeed.

They each had space to share stories and thoughts and opinions on life without being sandwiched figuratively and literally, conversational oxygen depleted and valiantly fought for.

I took notice of and thanked them for their helpful behaviors.

They loved the attention; I loved the assistance.

These moments – whether the intentional soaking up memories as my family trekked all over French-Canadian territory, attempting cringe-fully to speak French, poutine gravy dripping constantly in hand – or deliberate conversation with my little humans during an otherwise unremarkable errand – are important.

Small moments are lost if we only hold out for the grand.

And we only have 18 years with each of our little guys.

It’s easy to keep busy, and this autumn season gives us all the reasons to be.

But I’ve been trying to be smarter about the busy-work – Buying groceries more in bulk, planning ahead, stocking up on school snacks and organizing them in our downstairs pantry during quiet times where I’m not accompanied by my kiddos.

My own little haul of fame, if you will.

So live in the meaningful, cherish-able moments as they roll out with your little ones – tiny as the moments may be – and strategize your meal planning and bulk shopping list buys around this so your future self may thank you.

Spend more time, less money.

But buy the French poutine to share.

And to all you soccer mamas – I hear you, and I see you.

Let’s do this, September. I’ll see you on the other side!

­­– Michelle Cote lives in southern Maine with her husband and four sons, and enjoys camping, distance running, biking, gardening, road trips to new regions, arts and crafts, soccer, and singing to musical showtunes – often several or more at the same time! <

Insight: Man on a Mission

By Ed Pierce
Managing Editor

I was watching a baseball game last weekend when a special guest in the broadcast booth completely changed my opinion of him and made me think about what he had to say.

Michael Phelps is the most decorated Olympic athlete of
all-time, winning 28 Olympic medals, including 23 gold
medals. COURTESY PHOTO 

During the fifth and sixth innings of Sunday’s game between the visiting Baltimore Orioles and the host Colorado Rockies in Denver, former U.S. Olympian Michael Phelps joined broadcasters Kevin Brown and Ben McDonald for a light-hearted discussion about Phelps’ connection to Baltimore, his Olympic career, and how closely he follows the Orioles.

I wasn’t aware that Phelps was born in Baltimore and grew up in nearby Towson, Maryland. His mother enrolled him in youth swimming at the age of 7 after his two sisters did well in the sport. He said that he only took swimming lessons initially because his mother, who was a middle school principal, insisted that he do so.

At first, Phelps was just an average swimmer but when his parents divorced when he was 9, swimming became an outlet for him. He struggled in school and by age 11, he was diagnosed with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) while in sixth grade.

One of his teachers then turned his life around by telling him that “he would never amount to anything.”

That’s when he poured his heart and soul into swimming and began to train at the North Baltimore Aquatic Club under Coach Bob Bowman, a former collegiate swimmer whose approach to swimming was as Phelps puts it “exactly like a drill sergeant.”

He could not train under Bowman if his grades were poor, so during the school year, Phelps hit the books and then spent hours of training sessions in the pool. His work ethic and desire to win were so strong that he never missed a day of swimming training under Bowman’s direction for more than 20 years.

By age 15 in 2000, Phelps became the youngest swimmer to ever qualify for the U.S. Summer Olympics team. He didn’t win a medal in those games but finished fifth in the 200-meter butterfly. With an eye on the 2004 Olympics, he became the youngest swimmer to set a world record for the 200-meter butterfly during the World Championship Trials for the 2001 World Aquatic Championships at the age of 15 years and 9 months.

During the 2004 Summer Olympics in Athens, Greece, Phelps captured six gold medals in six different events and two bronze medals in two others. In the 2008 Summer Olympic Games in Beijing, China, Phelps competed in eight events and brought home another eight gold medals.

Competitors and doubters in the media suggested that Phelps might be on drugs, and continuing to win gold medals because of steroid use. Phelps responded by passing every drug test that was administered to him throughout his entire career.

He said he never let negative remarks bother him and that he attributes his success to always working harder than anyone else.

“While others were doing something else or celebrating the holidays, I was working and training,” Phelps said. “I never missed a day, and nobody was going to outwork me, and it helped me to achieve what I did.”

In the 2012 Summer Olympics in London, England, Phelps won four more gold medals and two silver medals. Following the games, he was ready to retire and done with swimming after racking up 18 gold medals and being honored as the winningest Olympian of all-time.

Yet less than two years later, Phelps decided to unretire, and set out to convince Bowman that he wasn’t trying to show anybody up or to prove anything.

“I wanted to swim for myself and to enjoy the journey,” he told the Orioles broadcasters.

At the 2016 Summer Olympic Games in Rio de Janeiro, Phelps was the U.S. flag bearer for the Opening Ceremonies and then shattered his incredible Olympic medal total by winning five more gold medals and a silver medal, before retiring from competitive swimming for good.

Now married and the father of four children, Phelps lives in Paradise Valley, Arizona where he volunteers as an assistant coach under Bowman for the Arizona State Swimming Team. Now 39, he covered the recent Summer Olympic Games in Paris, France as a broadcaster for NBC Sports.

In retirement, he founded the Michael Phelps Foundation, the Michael Phelps Swim School, and helped to develop a national pilot swimming program for the Boys and Girls Clubs of America. He says his goal is to teach children the importance of being active and healthy by focusing on swimming.

During his career in competitive swimming, Phelps established 39 world records, and he amassed a total of 28 Olympic medals, with 23 of them being gold medals, which is the most ever for an Olympic athlete.

He said that his teacher’s comment inspired him all those years ago and that he believes his dedication to training propelled him to his monumental accomplishments in swimming.

Until Sunday’s baseball game, I never knew what made Phelps the fantastic swimmer that he was and I came away from listening to him with a greater appreciation of what it takes to reach the pinnacle of Olympic success and then stay at the top after getting there. <