Insight: Don't pass Go, Don't collect $200

By Ed Pierce
Managing Editor

If you grew up in the 1950s and 1960s like I did, chances are that your closet was filled with popular board games of the day like mine was.

Board games were a way to engage the entire family in a fun-filled evening, show your friends how much you learned about a subject in school or to display a new winning strategy that you developed.

My first board games were Candyland, Chutes and Ladders and Uncle Wiggly. Of that group, Uncle Wiggly was my favorite because it was about taking a trip through a forest and reading simple rhymes found on each card drawn when it was your turn. The winner was always the first player to reach Dr. Possum’s House.

As I became older, for my 7th birthday in 1960 I was given a Go to the Head of the Class game. This was always entertaining for me, especially the game tokens which were cardboard images of adults and kids on wooden bases. The objective was to move across a playing field of student desks from nursery school to high school graduation by answering simple questions.

In fourth grade in 1962, I received a Cootie game for Christmas. That game baffled me as you had to build a large plastic bug-like creature called a Cootie by collecting various bug body parts. Not being into science in school, Cootie wasn’t my favorite and wasn’t played a lot after my younger brother carried off a Cootie body part and then lost it somewhere outside.

My brother was much more hands-on growing up than I was. Therefore, he received building blocks, Lincoln Logs and an Erector Set as gifts, while I was presented with board games.

By the time I was in sixth grade, my closet was filled with Monopoly, Aggravation, Scrabble, Game of the States, Chinese Checkers, Parcheesi, Clue, Concentration and Yahtzee. I also had a Lassie game, Careers, Battleship, and a World War I aerial combat game called Dogfight.

I didn’t own every board game. For some reason, I never had Life, Password, Sorry, Easy Money or Racko and I never wanted Milles Borne as I never understood what that game was all about.

A few games I owned required more physical skills than metal prowess and some of them were Mousetrap, Operation and Bas-Ket. In Mousetrap, you rolled a marble through a large contraption and the person with the fastest marble to complete the course winning. Operation involved extracting small plastic objects with tweezers from a funny looking cutout of a man. It needed a battery and the patient you were “operating on” would buzz and his nose would light up if you touched the side of a cutout space in retrieving an object. Bas-Ket was great fun and had players moving levers on a makeshift basketball court to connect for basketball baskets using a plastic ping pong ball.

At that same time, my parents gave me a Twister game and since my brother never wanted to play that, it sat in my closet for years. It got more use when I took it with me to college and there was no shortage of players during college co-ed dormitory parties.

I also had a table-top ice hockey game and an electric football game. The ice hockey game was the kind where you used levers to maneuver a small plastic puck up and down and take shots on goal. Unfortunately, my ice hockey game was ruined when I left it on the floor in my bedroom and my brother ran in there not knowing it was on the floor. He stepped on it and the levers became severely bent and twisted. My father was unable to straighten them to salvage the game so we could play it.

The electric football game involved small plastic players in realistic football poses who moved by vibration when the electricity was turned on. You could also pass a tiny oval felt football by pulling back the arm of the quarterback but never quite knew where a receiver would travel based upon the vibrations.

During my sophomore year of high school, I received both a Stratego and a Risk game for Christmas. I had also purchased my own chess and checkers games using money I had earned on my paper route. Instructions that came with the checkboard showed how to play a game called Backgammon, but it wasn’t until years later that I learned how to play that game.

Stratego quickly became one of my favorites. It’s a two-person contest where you advance colorful plastic military ranked pieces across a battlefield and the winner captures an opponent’s flag. Risk also fascinated me as a game of worldwide conquest where players roll dice to try and occupy countries on a global map.

My original Risk game had wooden game pieces that were much more durable when they accidentally fell on the floor and were then scooped up by my dog and chewed. The newer Risk comes with plastic game pieces that my dog would enjoy chewing and swallowing.

After a lifetime of playing board games, I’ve come to appreciate that the beauty of a game lies in its challenging complexity. <

Tim Nangle: Supporting healthcare access and affordability for all Mainers

By Senator Tim Nangle

With the legislative session behind us, I'm glad to be home in Windham, attending local events and reconnecting with people in our community. Hearing your concerns firsthand has reinforced the importance of the work we've accomplished. It's also given me time to reflect on the important achievements of this session, especially the health care initiatives I supported, both while serving on the Health and Human Services Committee and through broader legislative efforts.

State Senator 
Tim Nangle

A key achievement of this session was the full funding of the state’s share of MaineCare through our Part 1 and Part 2 budgets (LD 609 and LD 210). By closing a projected funding gap, we safeguarded essential health services for thousands of Mainers, particularly low-income families, older adults, children and individuals with disabilities. These critical investments mean families across our state won't face disruptions in their health care.

For individuals diagnosed with hearing loss, we passed LD 167, “An Act to Provide 2 Hearing Aids to MaineCare Members with Diagnosed Hearing Loss.” This will significantly improve the quality of life and health outcomes for hearing-impaired Mainers by ensuring access to two hearing aids rather than just one.

Every Mainer deserves dignity and high-quality care, particularly in later stages of life or when facing serious health challenges. That's why we prioritized improving care and conditions within nursing facilities and Maine’s Veterans Homes by investing an additional $6.5 million. This funding will support workforce retention and directly benefit the Maine residents who live in these facilities and rely on these critical services.

Recognizing the tireless efforts of our direct care workforce, we included increased support for their cost-of-living adjustments. These dedicated workers provide essential care to older Mainers and individuals with disabilities. Ensuring fair compensation is crucial for worker retention and maintaining the quality of care our communities depend on.

Supporting emergency response workers is particularly personal for me, having previously served as a police officer and paramedic. This session, we permanently established the workers’ compensation presumption for PTSD through LD 82, ensuring that police officers, firefighters, EMS personnel, corrections officers, and emergency dispatchers receive timely care and support for trauma endured while protecting our communities. I know firsthand the challenges these dedicated professionals face, and I’m deeply committed to supporting their mental and emotional well-being.

Insurance companies shouldn’t dictate which treatments a patient needs based on cost. That’s why we passed LD 178, “An Act Regarding Coverage for Step Therapy for Metastatic Cancer,” to help patients get the treatments they need when it matters most. This law prevents insurance companies from making patients try and fail with ineffective treatments before they can get the most effective therapies for metastatic breast cancer, ensuring faster, and potentially life-saving care.

Tackling prescription drug affordability, we enacted two significant measures regulating pharmacy benefit managers (PBMs). LD 180, “An Act Regarding Reimbursements by Health Insurance Carriers or Pharmacy Benefits Managers to Pharmacies,” prohibits PBMs from under-reimbursing pharmacies, protecting Mainers from artificially inflated drug costs. Similarly, we passed LD 1580, “An Act to Prohibit Carriers and Pharmacy Benefits Managers from Using Spread Pricing.” This new law bans PBMs from charging health plans more than pharmacies are reimbursed for medications, directly reducing prescription costs for Mainers.

We also strengthened our commitment to the federal 340B Drug Pricing Program to further support rural and underserved communities. This program allows eligible health care providers, including hospitals and clinics, to buy medications at discounted prices and reinvest those savings in patient care. By bolstering this program, we’re increasing access to vital medications and quality health care access across Maine.

These measures reflect the Legislature’s ongoing commitment to strengthening health care across Maine. I’m honored to serve our community and advocate for policies that prioritize Maine’s health and well-being. There's more work ahead, and I'll continue fighting to ensure every Mainer has access to affordable, dependable and quality health care.

For the latest, follow me on Facebook at facebook.com/SenatorTimNangle, sign up for my e-newsletter at mainesenate.org, or contact me directly at Tim.Nangle@legislature.maine.gov. You can also call the Senate Majority Office at 207-287-1515.

The opinions in this column are those of the author. They do not necessarily reflect the opinions or views of The Windham Eagle newspaper ownership or its staff. <

Andy Young: A fiendish wolf in friendly sheep’s clothing

By Andy Young

Like pretty much every person who wasn’t born blind, I know exactly how I look physically. I’m 6-foot-2 inches tall, with perfect posture, an athletic build, and a full head of lush, dark hair. I know this not only from memory, but also from the way I appear each night in my dreams, when I’m recording the final out of the World Series, foiling armed bank robberies, or rescuing damsels in distress from burning buildings (and subsequently sweeping them off their feet).

Andy Young

Full disclosure: I have, on several occasions, accomplished all of these Herculean feats in a single evening!

But recently my positive self-image has been shaken to its core, and what’s worse, the person responsible is someone I had previously considered a close friend.

Kevin and I have known each other since college, starting when he was the sports editor of the University of Connecticut’s student newspaper at the same time I was calling play-by-play for the school’s baseball, hockey, and soccer games on the campus radio station. His off-beat sense of humor seemed to mirror mine, as did his professed love of travel.

After graduation Kevin began a distinguished career as a newspaperman, while I continued functioning as a fulltime adolescent while nominally seeking a broadcasting job.

Some years ago the two of us took a seven-city, 10-day, freelance writing trip to some major league baseball parks together. Later we combined business with pleasure when we teamed up for a cross-country drive from Arizona to Connecticut. Kevin was unquestionably one of my closest and most trusted friends, which was why I was looking forward to the two-week trip the two of us were planning on taking to Canada’s Maritime Provinces early this summer.

After spending an evening at my home following his arrival in Maine late last month, Kevin and I headed north. The scenery in Newfoundland was as breathtaking as advertised, and the people there (and also in Nova Scotia and New Brunswick) bent over backward to make us feel welcome. We made some new friends, picking up a bit more useful wisdom along the way. Using his considerable photographic skills, Kevin snapped hundreds of pictures during our trip, capturing all the beauty and majesty of nature in the process.

But his photos revealed something else as well, which was that our whole relationship was a sham. Fraudulent. Bogus.

It turns out my close “friend,” who I’d have trusted with my life, was a total fake. Apparently, my ersatz chum had been waiting decades to undo my sense of self-worth, and when he saw an opportunity to take me down, he leaped at it.

Even worse, I wouldn’t have known of his craven doings had they not been called to my attention by an actual friend, who’d seen some photos of our trip Kevin had posted on his Facebook page.

Using what I assume is a magic, appearance-altering camera he acquired from the image-shifting department at backstabbers.com, my duplicitous “pal” had created images depicting me not as the matinee-idol handsome fellow I truly am, but as a frail, balding, doddering old geezer who resembles your aging grandfather’s wizened great-uncle.

Naturally Kevin professed his innocence when confronted with his treachery, but I told him to save his lame protestations. There’s no denying he’s responsible for those horrific photos depicting me as a haggard, shriveled old codger.

And how do I know for certain it was Kevin who used his diabolical technological know-how to alter the way others see me?

Because evidently the rat did the same thing to every mirror in my house the night he stayed there! <

Insight: Kung Fu Fighting, Mr. Bojangles and Brandy

By Ed Pierce
Managing Editor

What would you pay to own the soundtrack of a significant decade of your life? For me, the answer to that question launched a special quest unlike any other I have undertaken.

Ed Pierce has just completed acquiring all 25 music CDs
in the 1990 series issued by Rhino Records called
'Super Hits of the 70s Have a Nice Day.'
COURTESY PHOTO
 

It all began sometime in the mid-1990s at a music store in Melbourne, Florida. I had the day off from work and went to this store to purchase some CDs for my home stereo system. There were many fascinating bands and recording artists to choose from but an odd-looking CD in a bargain bin caught my eye and it was part of series of CDs issues by Rhino Records to salute the 1970s.

That decade was when I truly came of age. It was the time in which I graduated from high school, went to college, got married, started my career and joined the U.S. Air Force. I purchased my first car in 1972, met David Bowie in 1975, traveled to Europe in 1977, and became the owner of a pet cat in 1978.

As far as music goes, I collected what I could afford based upon my earnings at the time and the vinyl record albums I purchased were a luxury after paying the rent, buying groceries and writing a check for my auto loan every month.

But 20 years-plus after the 1970s, here I stood in awe of a CD I was holding called “Super Hits of the 70s Have A Nice Day.” The front of the CD was a photo collage of cultural icons of the decade including depictions of Elton John, Richard Nixon, Richard Pryor, Lindsay Wagner, Richard Roundtree, Rod Stewart, and characters from the 1970 film “Beneath the Planet of the Apes.”

Inside the CD, I discovered a compilation of 12 different 1970s tunes sounding just like they did when they aired on the AM radio in my 1974 Mercury Capri. Buying the CD and taking it home, it was indeed like turning the dial and finding a radio station playing the top hits of that era.

The playlist for the “Super Hits of the 70s Have A Nice Day Vol. 2” was like a time travel adventure. There was “Love Grows (Where My Rosemary Goes)” by Edison Lighthouse; “Ma Belle Ami” by the Tee Set; “Spirit in the Sky” by Norman Greenbaum; and “Reflections of My Life” by Marmalade. There were two tracks I had never heard of before called “For the Love of Him” by Bobbi Martin and “Little Green Bag” by the George Baker Selection.

Also featured on this CD were “Which Way You Goin’ Billy” by The Poppy Family; “My Baby Loves Lovin’” by White Plains; “Hitchin’ A Ride” by Vanity Fare; “United We Stand” by The Brotherhood of Man; and “Everything is Beautiful” by Ray Stevens. The CD tracks on this edition closed with “Lay a Little Lovin’ on Me” by Robin McNamara.

After a few months I stored the CD with others in my collection and hoped that someday I could find others in the series. Months turned into years and then into decades and I got busy with life and stopped looking.

Last summer when I rebuilt my stereo system, I was thrilled to own a turntable again and started to collect vinyl albums once more. As part of my stereo system, I own a 5-disc CD changer and brought a box of CDs up from the basement to my music room. Inside, I rediscovered the “Super Hits of the 70s Have A Nice Day Vol. 2” CD and it sounded fantastic when I played it.

That got me to thinking that perhaps someone might have other CDs in the “Super Hits of the 70s Have A Nice Day” series for sale. I first looked at two different locations of the Bull Moose music store without luck. Then I saw some CDs in the set listed on both Amazon and eBay.

Ordering one or two at a time at a reasonable cost online, I started in May on a quest to collect all 25 CDs in the series. I soon found out that some of these CDs are more valuable than the others.

For instance, Vol. 24 and Vol. 25 CDs are genuine collectors’ items because they were the final ones issued in the set in 1990. And for some strange reason, Vol. 11 and Vol. 14 are also hard to find and priced extravagantly.

My wife thought I was slightly insane over the past few months to be frequently checking the mailbox to see if any packages containing CDs had arrived for me on any given day. I was on a mission and would not be deterred.

Finally on July 3, I am happy to report that the last “Super Hits of the 70s Have A Nice Day” CD that I was seeking arrived via Fed Ex. It was the Vol. 11 edition, and I paid more than $10 extra for it than the other CDs. Not sure what the fuss was about for that one as none of the tracks on it are spectacular, unless you like “Playground in my Mind” by Clint Holmes or “Dueling Banjos” from the “Deliverance” film soundtrack.

Now I’m on to another obsession. <

40 X 15 = 600

By Andy Young

I never really know what I’m going to write each week for The Windham Eagle.

Sometimes I start with one idea but then head off in an entirely different direction.

Often life presents a topic, like last winter when a snowplow hit my car.

At other times a random thought will cross my mind, and it’ll get me started.

The ability to play with words and/or numbers helps when producing a cogent 600-word column.

Over the years I’ve gotten plenty of writing advice from a variety of distinguished mentors.

For example, a veteran editor told me to never write essays of over 800 words.

“Nobody wants to read more than 800 words about anything you can name,” she said.

And after many years of experience, I have to say I believe she was right.

Although given the attention spans of current readers, 400 words might be more like it.

Or, thanks to soulless social media influencers and avaricious cellphone purveyors, perhaps 200 would suffice.

After thoughtful consideration I decided to write exactly 600 words for The Windham Eagle each week.

And that’s what I’ve done for the past five years, week in and week out.

But what is the most effective method of writing thoughtful, meaningful, amusing, or inspiring essays?

Some folks say the best way of learning to do something is actually doing it.

And for the most part I agree, although obviously there are exceptions to every rule.

I have heard that for some people, formal education is more important than hands-on experience.

My best guess is that people who maintain that belief are most likely professional educators.

Or “educated idiots,” as my supervisor at the apple orchard, an 8th-grade dropout, enjoyed saying.

I wasn’t exactly the greatest at academics, but some random lessons somehow stuck with me.

Today a kid like me would be diagnosed with “oppositional-defiant disorder,” or some such thing.

But that wouldn’t have been entirely accurate in my case, since I wasn’t ever defiant.

Oppositional maybe, but defiance most definitely wasn’t a viable option when I went to school.

However, I may have shown a bit of passive-aggressive oppositional behavior from time to time.

If adults told me I couldn’t accomplish something, I’d do it just to spite them.

A well-meaning teacher once told me to vary the length of the sentences I wrote.

“Too many short sentences make your writing sound too simple, and too boring,” she intoned.

She also cautioned me against constructing overly lengthy sentences that contained too many multisyllabic words.

“Overlong sentences and pretentious verbiage turn readers off,” she sagely advised, and naturally I agreed.

I should have listened more carefully to most of the teachers I had back then.

But because I was an immature adolescent boy as a high schooler, I did not.

Funny, because now that I think of it, “immature adolescent boy” is a classic redundancy.

There were only three boys in my entire high school class who weren’t immature adolescents.

And naturally those three exceptions were unfairly (and unmercifully) tormented by the rest of us.

However, that was then, this is now, and the subject at hand is essay writing.

Nobody would recommend authoring an essay where every sentence contained the same number of words.

Or even worse, a 40-paragraph, 40-sentence essay, with each sentence consisting of exactly 15 words.

“Writing something like that is impossible!” they’d insist, adding, “Besides, who’d want to read it?”

I admit, I’m not quite sure who’d really want to read 40 consecutive 15-word sentences.

But after finishing this column, I know for certain that writing one is indeed possible! <

The Rookie Mama - Don’t sweep chores under the rug: A tale of summer structure and Lucky Charms

By Michelle Cote
The Rookie Mama

Parenting in the summer is like a firehose to the face that sends you backward down a giant slip-and-slide and lands you somewhere in a splashpad wild wilderness world if you so much as blink, when your kiddos are on three-month hiatus, but alas, your full-time work schedule hasn’t changed.

Splish-splash, don’t jump back in the bath – When it’s peak summer-lovin’ time in Maine, a bit of structure can go a long way to ensure smooth sailing for your whole crew.

Whether your little ones are summer camp bound or home with caregivers, be sure to begin every morning and end each day with a little routine and chores for all.

My husband and I have four young boys, ranging in age from 4 to 13. Each is able to contribute meaningfully to our home’s everyday upkeep, and as we all know, many hands make light work.

And in our home of six, we’ve sure got many a hand.

Kiddos kicking in with chores not only contributes greatly to our daily function, but teaching responsibility gives our little guys a sense of pride and accomplishment.

It’s a family affair.

Our youngest ones help pick up, whether sorting and properly stashing toy trains, Hot Wheels cars and Duplos from whence they came, or clearing the table – be it storing away art supplies or scooping up accidentally spilled bowls of Lucky Charms.

They’re also learning to help our older boys fold laundry.

After all, we all wear clothes – A whole lot of it – Folding should also be the team effort.

The folds may not be perfect, and socks may not always be exquisitely matched, not to mention the shirts that may be inadvertently placed in wrong piles.

We don’t expect perfection.

After all, I’ve never even met an adult who can fold a fitted sheet.

Among our older circuit, our boys help clean the house, do dishes, take out trash and recycling and mow our hilly lawn among other tasks.

When our kids are really deep in chore zone, they get music or background movie choice to make it fun and truly nurture that autonomy.

Rise-and-shines and bedtimes are still enforced, albeit with more flexibility than school nights and golden rule days. This keeps us on routine and ready to take on the day.

Peppered between daily tasks is lots of fun in the sun and the reward feels all the more magnificent after each doing our part.

But that’s precisely what it is – Each does our fraction; together we’re made whole.

When we teach responsibility – with patience, grace, and some great tunes in the mix – we all benefit, and our littles ones learn these life skills.

According to Parent.com, children who do chores grow up to be successful. A Harvard study that followed people for 75 years were able to connect their physical and emotional health as well as professional success to whether they did chores as kiddos.

And so it goes – To participate in life, one must contribute to it.

Chores also allow little ones to learn how things work.

So cleaning up those Hot Wheels cars and washing dishes regularly go a long way, so it seems.

Even Harvard says so.

Even if no one will ever know how to fold a fitted sheet.

So keep calm and carry on all summer long – Just don’t forget to keep kid chores top of mind along with sunscreen, and you’ll all have a well-deserved summer to remember.

­­– 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: Buck and The Cro

By Ed Pierce
Managing Editor

Several famous people I have met under different circumstances exhibited an uncommon trait called kindness.

Joe Crozier, left, befriended Ed Pierce when he was the
coach of the Rochester Americans in the American
Hockey League in the 1960s. Pierce met recording artist
B.W. Stevenson before a concert in 1973.
COURTESY PHOTOS     

As a representative of the Student Entertainment Committee at New Mexico Highlands University in October 1973, my mission was to ensure the bands we booked to appear in concert had suitable hotel accommodations and their equipment was on site and available for their performance. It also meant making sure the electricity and microphones worked and that band members were fed before each of the concerts.

One of the first performers I got to meet in person was a musician by the name of B.W. Stevenson. He and his band were touring the county promoting his new album. “My Maria” and his hit single of the same name from the album. Our committee had booked him earlier that summer, when his fee to perform was reasonable enough before his hit song rose to reach the Top 10 nationally.

I hadn’t listened very much to his music, but I had noticed his first album with his photo wearing a stovepipe hat the year before. I met his bus when it arrived on campus and told the band that once they looked over the gym where they were playing, we could get them checked into the hotel and then return for early afternoon sound checks and rehearsal.

Stevenson was slightly older than I was, in fact, he shared with me that this day of the concert was in fact his 24th birthday. He wasn’t very tall but was rather stocky and quiet. He told me that he was from Dallas, Texas and learned to play the guitar as a teenager.

When I asked him what the B.W. initials stood for, he laughed and said, “It’s Buckwheat, but you can call me Buck if you’d like.”

After dinner, Stevenson pulled me aside and asked what was going on in town after the concert. I mentioned to him that our fraternity was having a party with a keg of beer afterward and that he was welcome to come by our fraternity house with his band.

The concert was successful, and my job was done as other committee members made sure everything got packed up and stored on the band’s bus.

To my surprise, Stevenson showed up at the party with some band members and thanked me for inviting him. He shared a beer with us and some stories from the road and his life as a musician. I found him to be genuine and a regular guy despite his celebrity status.

While attending a professional hockey game in Rochester, New York in 1965, I asked my father if I could walk down to the player’s bench and see if one of them would give me a hockey stick. Most of the players were out on the ice warming up before the game started and so there was just one man standing by the bench and he was dressed in a business suit, so I decided that he wasn’t a hockey player.

I introduced myself to the man in the suit and he told me his name was Joe “The Cro” Crozier and that he was the coach of the Rochester Americans. He asked how old I was, and I told him I was 11. He pointed out onto the ice to a player warming up for the Hershey Bears wearing a jersey with the numeral 8 on it. He said the player’s nickname was “The Big Bear” and that his real name was Mike Nykoluk, pronounced Nik-O-Luck.

Crozier said that if I shouted “You Stink” at Nykoluk when he skated by and if he reacted to it, that he would make sure I received a hockey stick.

Sure enough, Nykoluk skated past where I was standing and I screamed at him, “Hey Nykoluk, you stink like a skunk.” Nykoluk stopped, turned around and smiled at me, shaking his stick at me first, and then at Crozier, who was laughing hysterically.

I returned to my seat but before the game ended, Crozier motioned to the usher to bring me and my brother to the bench where he presented us both with broken hockey sticks. Crozier told me, “Someday when you are grown up, you’ll remember this moment.”

Crozier went on as a coach to lead the Rochester Americans to three Calder Cup American Hockey League championships. He later served as the coach of the Buffalo Sabres and the Toronto Maple Leafs in the National Hockey League. Ironically, when Crozier was fired as the Leafs’ coach in 1981, he was replaced by none other than Mike Nykoluk. In 2012, Crozier was inducted into the AHL Hall of Fame and died at the age of 93 in 2022.

B.W. Stevenson continued to sing and perform nationally until 1988. In April of that year, he went into the hospital to have a heart valve repaired. Following the surgery, he soon developed a staph infection and died at age 38. Brooks and Dunn later had a Number 1 country hit with their version of Stevenson's "My Maria." 

Years later, when I think about meeting Joe Crozier and B.W. Stevenson, and that they each chose to be friendly to me when I was a total stranger to them, I am humbled. Their kindness is not something I will soon forget. <

Andy Young: Celebrating the 3rd 83rd

By Andy Young

Historians have an inexplicable love for round numbers. That’s why next year (MMXXVI for Roman numeral users), Americans can expect a bombardment of pomp and ceremony when the United States marks its semiquincentennial, sestercentennial, bisesquicentennial, or, for people who struggle with pronouncing words containing more than five syllables, its 250th anniversary.

Harriet Lane was the niece of U.S President
James Buchanan and because he was not 
married, she served as First Lady for
the president in 1859. COURTESY PHOTO

Far be it from me to rain on next year’s extravagant parade(s), but what’s wrong with celebrating every July 4th equally? Just because this year’s Independence Day is the country’s 249th doesn’t make the occasion any less meaningful. In fact, I think this year’s July 4 is even more significant than next year’s will be, since it marks America’s third 83rd birthday.

And what was so special about the first two 83rd anniversaries of the founding of the United States? In a word, plenty.

Four score and three years after the Declaration of Independence marked the penultimate (an easily pronounced four-syllable word) year of James Buchanan’s one-term presidency. And while his indecisiveness likely led to the Civil War, the lifelong bachelor should also be remembered as the only president to ever have his niece (Harriet Lane, for those keeping score at home) serve as America’s First Lady.

Plenty of American history was being made outside Washington, D.C. in 1859 as well. Indian Head pennies were minted for the first time. Oregon was admitted as the nation’s 33rd state, and the city of Olympia was incorporated in the territory of Washington. A lot of Americans seemed to be in a hurry that year, since MDCCCLIX was the year of the Colorado Gold Rush, the Comstock Lode Silver Rush, and the Pennsylvania Oil Rush.

On June 30, Charles Blondin became the first person to cross Niagara Falls on a tightrope. The first-ever intercollegiate baseball game was played the next day, with Amherst besting Williams (and their notoriously weak bullpen) 73-32. Cass Gilbert, the architect who designed the Supreme Court building, the Woolworth building, and three different state capitals, was born in 1859. So were educator John Dewey and outlaw William H. “Billy the Kid” Bonney.

America’s second 83rd birthday occurred in 1942 (MCMXLII), when the country was embroiled in World War II. Food, sugar, and gasoline were just three items that Americans had to ration, and the conflict was coming uncomfortably close to United States shores. On May 12, a Nazi U-boat sunk an American cargo ship near the Mississippi River delta, and a month later a Japanese submarine fired on Fort Stevens, Oregon, at the mouth of the Columbia River. On June 27, the FBI nabbed eight Nazi saboteurs off the coast of Long Island, New York, so it wasn’t surprising that the nation’s minimum draft age was lowered from 21 to 18 in November.

However, in June the war’s tide began turning the allies’ way when the Battle of Midway marked the first decisive defeat of the Japanese in the Pacific theater.

Not all of American History in 1942 involved war, though. Bing Crosby recorded “White Christmas” and “Silent Night” that year. Glenn Miller and his orchestra were awarded the first-ever Gold Record after a million copies of their rendition of “Chattanooga Choo-Choo” were sold, and Walt Disney’s animated version of Bambi was released in late August. The St. Louis Cardinals won a five-game World Series over the New York Yankees, and the Heisman Trophy went to Georgia halfback Frank Sinkwich.

There’s still half of 2025 remaining, so there’s no telling what significant history will be made this year.

That established, it goes without saying there’s no way to accurately forecast where America will be on its next 83rd birthday, in MMCVIII. <