We live in a world dominated by slogans. As a young boy, my first encounter with slogans came in the form of what are more aptly called proverbs, which I committed to memory and catalogued in my mind.
There was a knock on the door the other day and there stood an officer of the court with a summons for Robin to appear in court Friday, May 6 to answer the charge of contempt: failure to pay child support.
In the Academy Award-winning movie “Patton,” the general, in opposition to General Bradley’s advice, undertakes a daring advance toward the Sicilian city of Messina. At one stage of the campaign, following severe loss of life, Bradley queries Patton, “Have you seen the casualty reports?”
I note with sadness the passing of Carolyn Reny. I first met Carolyn when she showed up to play violin in my community theater orchestra. She sat in the second chair, first row. She did little things behind the scenes to help out, for example, organizing string rehearsals at her home on Biscay Road. It never occurred to me until years later that she got R.H. Reny to pull strings here and there to make things easier for me and the community theater.
Every so often I see or hear something that triggers my “write a column” reflex. That just happened when I received the morning news on my iPhone. Bold as brass, independent candidate for the 2nd Congressional District Mike Turcotte wants 154 unorganized townships to become a Maine Woods State Preserve with all residential and commercial building banned.
I hope you’ve noticed our recycling boxes for used clothing and shoes. The Epilepsy Foundation now provides us with the boxes. Please bring any clothes or shoes that might be reused by others.
A few years ago, during my first shift at Miles Memorial Hospital (now the Miles Campus of LincolnHealth), a very sick patient arrived by ambulance at about 2 in the morning.
As a music arranger of a military band, try giving the melody line to the third clarinets and assign the harmony lines to the rest of the band. I can guarantee that no one will ever hear the melody despite its presence. Alternatively, give the melody to the trumpet section doubled by the piccolos. In this case I can offer the same guarantee that a deaf man seated in the last row of the fourth balcony will be tapping his foot and humming the melody.
The second Civil War veteran selected to be profiled in this column on the Highland Cemetery is Richard C. Boynton. He is buried in his family lot with his wife, a daughter, and his son and members of his family.
More than half a century ago, when I was an unabashed grammar-school pupil, I enjoyed the company of a cheerful, bright, and energetic chum whom I shall call Chet. Whether on the playground or in the classroom, Chet put his all into his work, and conveyed an optimism which elevated each of us.
For those who don’t like sentiment, throw this down and go on to something else. Today I want to share with all my folks what’s happening in my church. Most of you already know that I lived for years in Damariscotta on the Biscay Road. My partner at the time, Erik Nord, and I fixed up the beat-up old house on the corner of Biscay and Standpipe.
Nineteenth-century architect Daniel Burnham frequently expressed the admonition, “Make no small plans. They have no magic to stir men’s blood and probably will not themselves be realized.” He apparently lived those words.
It is often said that one of the best ways to truly learn something is to teach it.
Back when I was a 10-year-old rascal, I frequently found myself glued to the black-and-white television in the downstairs playroom of our northern New Jersey suburban home, watching the “Soupy Sales Show” on WNEW, channel 5. Most of his show has disappeared from mind, with one exception: Soupy routinely employed the comedic vehicle “show me a … and I’ll show you a … “