Say Yes, And Figure It Out Later: An Unexpectedly Wonderful Event

Say yes, and figure it out later. That is a phrase I have heard a lot over the years when it comes to opportunities in life. Typically it refers to a job, but for me it refers to a speaking event.

This week I was part of an event that could have easily gone sideways, and in the back of my mind I figured it would. The Cape Cod Maritime Museum in Hyannis reached out to me last week on Tuesday. They had an event scheduled for Thursday, August 13th. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, their speakers dropped out. One even said something like, ‘I’m old, I just can’t.’ That’s a great way to honor your commitments.

I received an email asking if I could step in on short notice. I wouldn’t be giving the same presentation as the people who bailed, though. I was asked to create something.

I hesitated, but when they said that Don Wilding, who I consider the gold standard of Cape Cod history, recommended me, I was in. I didn’t want to disappoint him, the maritime museum, or the people who had already spent money to buy tickets for the event that night.

So I said yes, but that left me with an issue: I had one week to craft a totally new presentation. They gave me a bit of leeway. The only parameters were that it needed to fit into the Roaring Twenties motif of their lectures during the summer of 2026.

Luckily, a few years ago I had crafted a video about what it was like to have a summer vacation on Cape Cod a century ago. That was for 1923, but it was not that much of a leap to change things up for 1926.

Although I had the subject, I still needed to do a lot of research and spend hours putting together a suitable presentation and copious notes. I needed to make sure the talk included details about specific Cape Cod places from back then, like restaurants, hotels, and events of the time. By the time I was done, I had forty slides in the presentation and 3,000 words worth of notes.

Despite being really happy with my work, I knew that there could still be issues. I felt good about what I would be speaking about, but would it matter? People had ordered tickets for a certain event. Now that it had been changed to something totally different, what if they didn’t want to keep their tickets to see me? What if sales of tickets for my presentation were terrible?

I have written ten books. I have spoken at many dozens of events over the years. Even at my highest of highs, I still get imposter syndrome. It’s that voice in the back of my head that tells me that I don’t deserve good things, or success, or love, or happiness, or whatever. It’s a fear of being found out or exposed even though it's usually totally unfounded.

It was too late by the time August 13th rolled around. I had committed to the event and done the work of creating the presentation. I would not bail like the other people had. I remained cautiously optimistic but still kept hearing in the back of my mind that it might not be as good as I’d hoped.

The drive to the Cape Cod Maritime Museum was a wash of summer traffic and a passing severe thunderstorm. Would the weather play a factor in turnout?

I arrive at my events forty-five minutes early. There was an event at the Cotuit Library years ago where I got stuck in traffic on the way and arrived five minutes before my start time. I walked in, and the people were waiting. It already looked bush league.

Then, on top of being nearly late, the cables to connect my laptop to the projector were malfunctioning. It was a nightmare. In the end, I believe I started speaking fifteen minutes late. I vowed to never let that happen again, and it hasn’t.

The staff at the museum were so grateful to me for stepping up. I had never been inside, so I loved getting a behind the scenes tour. Anybody who enjoys boats, sailing, maritime history, anything like that, I highly recommend visiting.

Naturally, because I was so early, everything was set up in record time with no hiccups. My cautious optimism turned to overjoyed excitement when I got the news. Not only were the pre-sale ticket people coming, but the entire lot of seats was sold out. On top of that, there was a standby list of people waiting just in case seats opened up. That’s right, my event had a waiting list. It was a first-ever for me.

I set up my books on a table and gathered my notes on a clear hard-plastic podium. One by one, staff members came up and thanked me for being there. I admit I felt a little pressure, wanting to be worthy of all of the praise.

Once the setup was done and all of the pleasantries exchanged, all I had to do was wait. The Maritime Museum holds events in a really neat, rustic downstairs library overlooking the harbor. It was so packed with chairs that I was wedged in a corner behind the podium.

While awaiting the people, I looked around. In an interesting twist, the very first book I spotted was one about Gurnet Point in Plymouth. It’s meaningful because my buddy Steve’s family has had a cottage out there for a century. I snapped a photo to send to him later.

That was another interesting shift. I tend to take a few photos or videos before the event to share on social media. On this day I didn’t have time. People began coming down the stairs, and it was showtime.

This was a History on Tap event, so Cape Cod Beer donated some drinks for people to enjoy. I had a nice lemon seltzer. August 13th was my 2,162nd day alcohol-free, with my 6th ‘Soberversary’ coming September 12th.

People filed in with their plastic cups of beer or wine and stared at the title slide for the event. Not wanting to just stand there, I engaged with people sitting nearby. Slowly the seats filled, and voices echoed off the old wooden floors and walls.

I was mic’d up, but only for the recording of the event for the museum and not to be heard over the crowd. Having come up in the restaurant industry, I had learned how to project my voice, so being heard has never been an issue.

As we began, there might have been an empty seat or two, but it was a nearly full house of somewhere between fifty and sixty people. So they had shown up. Now it was up to me to be worthy of their time and money.

Yes, I might have needed to basically read my notes like a script, but I spoke of Olde Cape Cod for forty-five minutes. I loved hearing the sounds people made at each new slide. Some featured old photos and postcards of places they either remembered or had heard about.

When I finished my talk and asked for questions, the applause echoed off the walls. It had gone better than I could have hoped for. The Imposter Syndrome retreated, at least temporarily. I also realized that saying yes to something a bit out of your comfort zone is good. While it is good to keep the worst-case scenario in mind, it also rarely ends up happening.

I answered questions for another twenty minutes, never wanting it to end. After the event unofficially ended, people came up to buy books, thank me for stepping in, and overall wish me well. I felt validated.

I have always been an introvert. Writing books forced my hand into becoming a public speaker. People are usually shocked when I tell them that after an event. Now I have confidence while speaking; it tends to be everything else surrounding the event that gets into my head.

The guests made their way upstairs, or into the next room to see some genuine boat building going on. Soon it was just the three remaining staff members and me. The event had not only drawn in regulars, but it had brought in people they said they’d never seen come to a lecture. I will stay grounded and say it was the interesting topic rather than the interesting speaker.

As things began getting put away, the staff at the museum asked if I’d want to come back and do another presentation. Of course I said yes.

The plan now is to do an event in January. It is likely going to be a return to the Lady of the Dunes murder case that was such a huge part of my life a few years ago. For that one, I will not need to create a whole new presentation.

In the end, the event turned out to be one of the best I’ve ever been a part of. I left the museum feeling grateful, validated, and a bit overwhelmed at the support I got.

Driving along the busy Route 28 as the sun began going down on a warm summer night, I felt the urge to stop somewhere. I chose Englewood Beach in West Yarmouth. It was, and in many ways still is, the spot I most associate with my Nana.

I felt like being in that setting, reveling in such a successful event, and in a small way sharing the good vibes with my Nana. Sure, the stress and worry felt a bit pointless after the fact, but you never assume anything until it’s over.

That’s a little look at what ended up being one of my favorite events of my writing career. It shows that sometimes you just need to say yes and figure it all out after. It also gives me growing confidence that if I do say yes, things will turn out as good as or better than you might expect.

Initial Impressions 2.0 Blog #130: Familiar Scents, Wildfire Skies, Too Many Soups, etc.

1. A favorite recent pastime of mine is going to a park in the afternoon and sitting in my car to listen to a podcast. There is something about the sun, the scents of summer, and the people watching when combined with a good podcast that really sets my soul at ease. I spent so many good times riding around on my bike as a kid. There were certain scents that I remember from back then that instantly trigger good feelings. Don’t laugh, but two of them are dead pine needles and dirt. Yeah, that sounds like an idea for a terrible novelty body wash, but it’s true. The brown pine needles in the hot sun give off a scent that brings back the teenage boy in me. That combined with the smell of dirt, like after you’ve dug a hole or moved it around, it’s like it unlocks something inside. Hey, come on, I know that all of you have certain smells that trigger memories. Mine just happen to be part of the playbook of a typical 1980s boy. So when I am sitting at a park and can smell the pine needles, it’s an automatic release of endorphins. I’m not saying I want to buy an air freshener that smells like dead pine needles, but if someone gave me one for free, I wouldn’t throw it away.



2. I am a connoisseur of energy drinks, if that is a thing. Since college in the late 1990s, I’ve tried pretty much everything there is to try when it comes to energy drinks and pre-workout supplements. There have been some that I liked more than others. Many of those I liked ended up being discontinued or even banned due to their ingredients. Even now, in my late 40s, I will try most energy drinks. I was shocked this week when, of all people, my mother had a recommendation for a new energy drink. It’s from The Loaded Tea Shop. These are in powdered form with 200mg of green tea caffeine and a few other vitamins. My mom and sister enjoy the flavors; many have funny names like Frog Spit. I have had a couple of the powdered sticks and do enjoy them, but I will admit they are a bit pricey. If you click the link and go to their website, you will see that each stick, even when on sale, is $4. I guess my favorite energy drink is usually the cheapest one that is on sale. When I get one, they typically cost $2-2.50. If you go by the directions, each stick could be 2 servings of 16 ounces, so it’s possible it’s more affordable than I think. Anyway, I have enjoyed them and am linking to their site so you can try for yourself rather than just taking my word for it.


3. No matter how old I get, I still find and enjoy the beauty in the small things. Arriving for Monday Runday this week, I ended up being distracted. I spotted a greenish dragonfly landing on a branch nearby. Rather than go off to the track to start some exercise, I was fascinated by the insect. It seemed to be relaxing, so I was able to start getting photos and videos. No matter how much I filmed or how close I got to the dragonfly, it just sat there. Eventually, I had to get going, but first, I wanted an action video of the dragonfly flying. I was shooting a slow-motion video, which was beneficial. I slowly started moving my finger closer and closer until finally it flew off. I probably spent a few minutes hanging out with the dragonfly even though it felt much longer. Ironically, for as long as I hung around the dragonfly, I could have stayed longer. That is because once I got to the track, I was still the first one there. Then again, there was only so much room on my phone to video an insect sitting on a branch.




4. I have to start this off by saying cancer sucks. This week, I found out that a former patient at my work passed away from brain cancer a few weeks ago. Her name was Christine, and she would come in routinely with her husband, Doug. When they first came in, she was battling a brain tumor. I think she had already had one surgery to combat it. She used a pair of our therapies that promote healing at the cellular level. They are PEMF(pulsed electromagnetic field) and EWOT(exercise with oxygen therapy). When they would show up, I would drop what I was doing if I could to spend time chatting with them. She was so sweet and friendly even in the face of something so horrible. I don’t know how she did it. Coming in twice a week for several months, she got positive updates. Her brain tumor was shrinking, and we were so excited and hopeful that she would beat the cancer. Sadly, the last few times she came in, October of last year, I noticed something. She was not able to ride as far on the bike or take in as much of the 93% pure oxygen that makes up the therapy. Then all of her appointments were canceled as she prepared to fight the resurgent cancer. We wished her all the best, which was all we could do. This week we found out that she didn’t win the battle. She was only 68 years old. Rest in peace, Christine. My heartfelt condolences to Doug and the rest of her family. Oh, and most of all, fuck cancer.


5. It was eerie during the middle of this week when the sky went from sunny and very soupy, to a yellowy haze. It felt like a horror movie was starting. We had an air quality alert, which I thought was due to how hot and humid it was. It turned out to be at least partially due to smoke from Canadian wildfires. The smoke rolled in so quickly that the temperature dropped five degrees within minutes. Sadly, there were more than 800 wildfires across Canada, with many located just across the border north of Minnesota. I am sure by the time this blog goes up, that number will change, hopefully for the better. It feels as though this sort of thing occurs far too frequently now. There are typically a handful of days a year when smoke from some wildfire drifts down into New England. It makes for an interesting sky, but there’s nothing else good that comes from a wildfire.




6. Over the last 12 years, I have been privileged to do easily many dozens of author events based around various books I have written. It is never lost upon me that people, most of them total strangers, take time out of their days to come out and hear me speak. It is a humbling experience I will never take for granted. I have done multiple events at many libraries all over Cape Cod. It is increasingly rare for me to do an event at a place on Cape Cod that I have never been to before. This week I got to speak at the Snow Library in Orleans for the first time. It was a fun event with a beautiful setup. I am distantly related to Cape Cod’s Snow family, so it was fitting. In addition to the rows of chairs in the conference room, I was fascinated by a sort of balcony level of seats. There were two rows of fixed seats in the upstairs level of the conference room. I wish that it had been a busier event where people had to go and sit up there because I bet the visual would have been cool. Of course, I forgot to go upstairs to see the view from there. I am so grateful to everyone who came to the event at the Snow Library and hope to do it again at some point in the future.




7. In a sort of ‘snatching defeat from the jaws of victory’ moment, I was out on the tidal flats this week during the time when the Canadian wildfires were impacting the skies over New England. I walked out to get some surreal photos of the red/orange sun over a boat resting on the sand. I brought my trusty selfie stick. It allowed me to get a few cool angles on the photos. I had to hurry to get to work, so I was walking back to my car across the sand. I guess I was a little too rough trying to get my phone out of the holder on the selfie stick. Not only did my phone come free, but so did the holder itself. Yes, I managed to break my selfie stick after taking some cool photos with it. But wait, longtime readers of this blog will remember that the same thing happened last June. So I have broken two of the same selfie sticks in 13 months. Now, the big question is, do I get the same stick again, which is convenient, affordable, but also apparently pretty fragile? Or do I spend a little more on something that claims to be sturdier? I say ‘claims’ because with my luck I’ll spend more money on a new selfie stick and probably break it when opening the box or something. We’ll see what happens.


8. Some things can’t be blamed on the runner’s high. I went for an afternoon run one day this week. It was a perfect afternoon with sunny skies and the temperature around 80. I had a great run, ending up putting in 5.5 miles in total. When I got back to where my car was parked, it was natural to think about what was for dinner. Luckily, it was a short walk across the parking lot to a supermarket. I was exhausted but walked over to grab a few things. I went to the self-checkout as I always do. While scanning, some pissed-off-looking Karen came up complaining that she couldn’t find containers of Parmesan cheese dust to shake. That idiot distracted me, and I didn’t notice that I had scanned my one can of soup five times. I had to call an employee over to start voiding my mistakes. Once he was done, he had no sooner walked away than I accidentally scanned the dang soup again. That made six times. He had to come back over, and I swore I wasn’t messing with him. He didn’t seem to care either way. I could blame it on the runner’s high or that entitled Karen, but I’ll just laugh and say it’s par for the course for me.


9. I’d like to think that I am not that hard to see when I am out for a walk or run. Yes, I like to dress in black a lot of the time, but I also am out during the day and not at night. So it comes down to a select few drivers who either shouldn’t have their licenses because they can’t see properly, or shouldn’t have them because they are dangerous and don’t care. I’d say it was the former during one incident this week. I was down a quiet road in a quiet neighborhood on a beautiful morning. Even on quiet roads, I run on the side, not in the middle, out of respect for other drivers. This red sedan goes by me, so close that if my left arm had been anywhere but by my side their mirror would have smacked me. They could have easily slowed down or maneuvered slightly to the left; there was plenty of room for both of us. But no, this car just kept right on going like I was invisible. I saw it was some old lady driving. Didn’t matter, I let her have it, yelling and swearing. Seriously, what if I hadn’t been hugging the side of the road? Would this old bag have just plowed into me? She stopped about five houses ahead of me. Rather than keep going so I could get up close and scream at her more, I decided to just let it go and turn around and run back the other way. The run and the scenery were too good to let some blind cotton ball ruin it.


10. This week saw the return of the new Cape Cod tradition, Big Nick’s Ride For the Fallen. It is in honor of Yarmouth resident Nicholas Xiarhos, who was killed in action in Afghanistan in 2009. The ride itself consists of well over 1,000 people on motorcycles traveling from the Massachusetts National Cemetery down into Yarmouth, where it ends. The wild part is that the procession goes right by where I live. It ends up being roughly ten straight minutes of revving engines going by. Every year, I plan on filming it, and every year, something comes up. This year, the plan was to set up my selfie stick tripod and shoot a cool time-lapse video. Of course, you know from a few entries back that my stick broke. I wasn’t going to stand there for at least ten minutes holding my phone, so I just watched from a window. It is a cool new tradition and one that has a lot of meaning and raises money for good causes. Some year, I will film it, but you can see it yourself at the link: Big Nick's Ride For the Fallen


11. I tend to type pretty fast and wild when I get into a groove. Luckily, with spell check and Grammarly, I can cover my tracks and not look too foolish with any mistakes I make. However, the problem comes when the word you misspell is actually another correctly spelled word. The one that keeps coming up for me is the word ‘core.’ Why? It happens when putting together notes for workouts I did with clients. There are a lot of people who I have do core rotations to strengthen their abs. Way more times than I’d like to admit, I rush to get my notes done and have misspelled ‘core’ as ‘crow.’ I have gone back through my notes and wondered what in the world is a crow twist? I know there is a crow pose in yoga, but none of my senior clients could do that. That one isn’t bad since only other office people would see it, and they really never check what I am doing in the gym. The one that is more embarrassing is misspelling my own name. I will text clients and preface it by saying who it is. ‘Hi X, it’s Chris from Mind Body Spine.’ Pretty simple, right? Except it’s not when I get caught between names way too often. I have typed Christ and sent it. Not Chris, not Christopher, but Christ. ‘Hi, this is Christ…’ Those I can’t get back. I haven’t had anyone say anything yet. One of these times, I should give some profound advice after. ‘Hi, this is Christ, the answer you seek will come after giving $500 to your trainer.’ That would never work, but if it did, yay, cash windfall!

Yay, windfall!

A Forgotten Story From A Favorite Place

It’s amazing, as you get older, the number of memories that grow fuzzier or get lost to time altogether. It’s a big reason why I have chosen over the years to write various journals as well as blogs like this. I want to hold on to as many stories from my life, even if they end up being only in written or typed form.

That is the setup for this story here. It is one that I had totally forgotten about for many years. I wish I could tell you what brought it back to mind, but I can’t. It’s like one minute there was a dark room, and suddenly the light switch turned on and revealed the full contents therein.

This is a story where I was hailed as a hero. Despite that, I don’t think I talked about it much at the time. Bear with me, as even though I remember the majority of this story, there are still details that remain locked away in the past.



Bass Hole, or Gray’s Beach as it’s known to those not familiar with Cape Cod, has been my favorite place for a long time. My visits there number in the several hundreds over my life. It is a small beach in the town of Yarmouth Port.

For those wondering why it is called ‘Bass Hole’ by the locals, I will open the pages of my copy of the book Names of the Land. It was written by Eugene Green and William Sachse in 1983. Actually, it was my Nana’s book, but that’s beside the point. In the early 17th century, the Colonists marveled at the number of striped bass that were drawn to the deep creek mouth, aka the ‘hole.’

The Bass Hole grounds include a grassy area with a pavilion, grills, and a playground. Nature trails lead you to overlooks of a marsh and nearby Chapin Beach in the town of Dennis.

The major attraction at Bass Hole is a several-hundred-foot-long boardwalk that extends out over the marsh. It is the type of place where people flock to in the hopes of capturing the perfect sunset photo.

I visited regularly growing up. Once I was in high school and able to go out on my own with friends, it became a haven for most of our activities. John and Barry, two of my oldest and dearest friends, were my partners in crime.

We were never into doing things like underage drinking and all-night partying. We enjoyed grabbing some snacks and hanging out in the parking lot at Bass Hole after dark. Either we’d get tired, or we’d start seeing police cars on patrol, and that would cause us to call it a night. Those wacky chats, either in the dark or under the dome light of a car, are some of my favorite memories of growing up.

The pavilion and playground at Bass Hole.

After we all graduated from high school, John and Barry left for college and moved away to start the next chapters of their lives. When they returned, we would make it a point to visit Bass Hole together for old times' sake.

Still living on Cape Cod, I frequented my favorite spot for a sense of normalcy as I began delving into what I learned was a Quarter-Life Crisis in my early 20s.

I went by myself and sat in the parking lot. Typically, I’d bring lunch or dinner, something fast food to pair with my super healthy lifestyle at the time. Then I’d wander the grounds as if I were searching for a part of me that I’d never find again. Bass Hole was my happy place, whether alone or with others.

For this particular story, I believe we go back to 2003. I was living with my family in a small place in Dennis Port. It was early fall, probably October. I was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt that was more like thermal underwear. I know that’s hard to picture. I got it from Old Navy. It was off-white. I am describing it in depth because it’s important to the story.

It was later in the afternoon on this day that I visited Bass Hole. I had something for dinner. Because it was 2003, I’d guess McDonald’s. When I finished, I threw my trash away and went for a walk.

When I am there, I typically don’t pay much attention to the goings-on in the parking lot. It’s a public place and a beloved place, but for me, the fewer cars, the better. For this October afternoon, there might have been a handful of other vehicles there at most, and I hadn’t noticed any other people.

The walks I’d take tended to last anywhere from 15 to 30 minutes. For as many nice things as there are to see at Bass Hole, it is, in general, a small area. I walked the nature trails and got lost in thought for a spell.

Upon returning from the woods, I crossed the grassy area, passed the playground, and stepped onto the asphalt parking lot. My car was straight ahead, and my mind probably drifted to what mundane tasks I’d be having to do at work the next morning. Then I heard it.

The eastern side of the square parking lot is bordered by reeds, thorns, and various other bushes. From among them, I heard a weak voice.

“Help!”

I stopped and looked over but didn’t see anything. Was it in my mind?

“Please help me!”

This was not my imagination. I might have been thirty feet from the end of the asphalt. Slowly, I walked toward where the frail voice had been coming from. Only when I got within a few feet did I find the source.

Lying on her side, three or four feet back from the pavement, was a woman. She had to have been in her early to mid 70s. Apparently, she had crossed into the overgrowth looking for something. I can’t remember exactly now, but I thought she had said something about berries.

The various branches and thorns had gotten hold of her legs and tripped her up. Once down among them, she struggled to escape, but in the process, she was tangled up even worse.

My only experience with that particular section of Bass Hole had come years earlier. John, Barry, and I had purchased a cheap kite. I believe it was some sort of bird emblazoned on it; we called it our ‘falcon kite.’

We likely had a kite similar to one of these

As we flew it poorly, it ended up crashing into those reeds and thorns. We knew it was more trouble than it was worth to try to maneuver through even a few feet of heavy overgrowth to retrieve a kite that cost us a few dollars. We left it in there. Who knows how long it took until it had disintegrated? Now, there was a person stuck in those same thorns and brush.

I didn’t think twice. I stepped into the thorns, trying to push the branches down with my sneakers, and grabbed hold of her. I lifted her gently but with enough force to detach the thorns from around her legs. I felt some of them release their grip on her, and on me as well. Once I had her up on her feet, I saw how badly things had been.

Her hands and arms were sliced up and bleeding pretty badly. It looked like she had been struggling for at least a few minutes. That long-sleeved shirt I was wearing was now covered in her blood. It was all surreal.

I guided her out of the brush and onto the pavement. By this time, a few people had rushed over. The woman was grateful but visibly shaking. I believe she had fallen in the brush within minutes of my walking off to the nature trails.

The people who came over only did so because they saw the two of us walking out of the brush with me holding the woman up. It could have been possible that if I hadn’t been there, she wouldn’t have been seen or heard for a while. She could have possibly even been there into the night.

The woman thanked me profusely. One of the people who came over to help called me a hero. I guess I was a little shaken, and maybe a little oblivious to the seriousness of the situation. It was that same person who painted the picture of what could have happened to the woman if I hadn’t been there. Then it sank in.

In what must have seemed like a scene out of a superhero movie, I waited until I knew that rescue had been called for the woman and then quietly took my leave. It was a true Irish goodbye.

I find it interesting that when presented with the chance to soak in the adulation of people for saving a helpless woman, I chose to slip away. Nobody there ever got my name, not even the woman I helped. I was gone so quickly out of the parking lot that I didn’t even pass the ambulance that had been called.

Sunset was closing in as I got home. I parked in the driveway and sat in my cranberry red Saturn. Ironically, my white shirt now matched my car’s paint job.

I looked down at the dried blood and still couldn’t fathom what had happened on what was just another visit to Bass Hole. I had helped someone in need, a total stranger, without thinking twice. I knew that was the right thing to do.

I walked inside. My mother was in the kitchen with her back to me. I remember walking up to her, and when she turned around, the absolute shock and horror at what she saw.

Imagine the scene of your son walking into the house covered in someone else’s blood. It’s like the beginning of so many true crime dramas that you see on television. Lucky for me, I was never a troublemaker, so my explanation was believed.

It made me so glad that John and Barry and I had been (relatively) good kids growing up. If I had been a problem child, it would have been different. Do you think my mother would have believed the story that you just read? Especially considering that I chose anonymity? Nobody had my name, so where would the proof have been? She’d have probably sneaked into her bedroom and called 911.

Although I liked that shirt, I didn’t even bother trying to wash it. It was wrapped in a plastic bag and thrown into the trash. Boy, that makes it sound even more like I was covering up a murder. I did, however, buy a replacement for it.

Me wearing the replacement shirt, fittingly at Bass Hole in 2004.

Looking back, I wish I had gotten the name of the woman I helped. Or at least maybe stuck around until rescue got there. I had done the most important part, though, by helping her. I didn’t need the pat on the back.

What’s interesting is that this was in the days before social media. I think I had only recently gotten a cell phone at the time. If I had social media, would I have shared my experience? Probably.

I could have seen myself sitting in my car explaining what had happened. Of course, if I were wearing my blood-soaked shirt, the video would have been pulled, and the authorities would have probably been called on me. So all things considered, it was probably for the best that Facebook and Myspace didn’t exist then.

That’s the story of probably my most interesting trip to Bass Hole. The time that I happened to be there to help someone in their time of need. It was pure luck and nothing I sought out. It did make me feel good about myself as a person, though.

It makes me think of how many situations happen or don’t happen due to a matter of seconds and inches. If I had gone to Bass Hole a little earlier, what would have happened to that lady? I’d like to think somebody else would have heard her cries for help, but you never know.

I have been in situations where I could use a hand. It’s never been as bad as being trapped among thorns and bleeding heavily, though. I’d like to think that if I were in need, there would be a good Samaritan there to help me out. I will never lose that faith in humanity.

I have returned to Bass Hole countless times in the years since. There has never been such an event again. I will say I did get to see some incredible Aurora Borealis there in 2024, which was very fitting.

Aurora Borealis at Bass Hole

I hope that the woman I helped never lost her sense of wonder and adventure that caused her to climb in among the thorns, trying to find whatever she was looking for. I never saw her again and probably wouldn’t have recognized her if I had.

She and I were in each other's lives for all of 15 minutes, but I’d like to think that we each left a positive mark on the other. I gave her a helping hand, and she revealed a part of me that I am proud of.

Initial Impressions 2.0 Blog #117: Used To Be Young, Price Update, Double Entendre, etc.

1. I try to remember that I was a kid once, and so was everyone else. I don’t want to become the old guy who is always suspicious of younger people. I say all this because this week, when it was time for Monday Runday, I had to put that to the test. I run with a longtime friend at a school track. The school has been closed for a few years and is likely to be torn down in the next few years, but the track is still in one piece. I pulled into the parking lot, and standing near the front door of the school were two teenage boys. They were just hanging out with their bikes. I did my best to remember I was a kid once, but I had my eye on them the entire time I was there. They stayed huddled by the front of the school for a good 45 minutes while I was on the track. They only left a few minutes before I got done. Of course, as far as I know, they didn’t do anything except hang out, but my old man eyes were fixed on them anytime they got in my line of sight.


2. There is an old 1990s song by a band named Everclear called ‘Everything to Everyone.’ The title has always stuck with me because I feel that is my lot in life. I’ve always hated to let people down. For too many years, I’d say yes to things that I wasn’t 100% into because I wanted to be liked. In some ways, it’s noble to want to have the ability to do whatever you can for others to help them. However, when you constantly try to please everyone, the one person who ends up being not pleased is you. In my 40s, I’ve done a lot more of saying no and setting boundaries. Not being a jerk, but when whatever it is doesn’t 100% jive with what’s in my heart and mind, I have to decline. There are obviously levels to people pleasing. Small things, I am still apt to say yes to, but my level of extension out of my safety and stability grows smaller with each passing year. I feel bad when I have to say no to people, especially loved ones, but I also feel like the things I’ve declined haven’t been unreasonable. I’m sure those who’ve asked feel differently, but you can’t please everyone, and you shouldn’t try.


3. I love Netflix. Ever since I signed up for it again last year, I have posted about the shows I have been enjoying all over this blog. That being said, they are, at the end of the day, a greedy corporation looking to squeeze every cent they can out of their subscribers. They know that they have loads of great shows and movies and that the more than 320 million worldwide subscribers will pay for their service, even as they continue to raise their rates. I had to laugh this week when I got an email from Netflix. In it, they mentioned their rates being raised. I have the lowest tier with ads, and it’s up to $8.99 per month, up from $7.99. The laughing part came from how they phrased it. They called it a ‘price update.’ Update? It’s not like a new Windows download or iPhone software. It’s a straight money grab. I’d have had more respect if they just said, ‘Here’s info about the latest price increase.’ It’s not like I’m going to cancel, but I had to laugh at how they frame their making more money off of us. Please don’t piss down our backs and tell us it’s raining, Netflix.


4. This week saw the first 70-degree days of the year on Cape Cod. After the terrible winter we had, it was an amazing feeling to step outside in short sleeves and feel the warmth of the sun. It was 70 degrees at 9am, which was perfect. Of course, the first 70-degree day was also a work day, so there was a tinge of sadness. I was driving to work and had to stop off at the beach. This is the time of year when it gets warm, but the humidity is still a way away. This is also the time of year when it gets warm, you can be outside, and the flocks of tourists aren’t here yet. I joked to myself as I walked along the sand that I must really like my job because I was choosing to go to work inside when the wide open beach was staring me in the face. The most ‘New England’ thing about the warm weather goes back to last week, and saying that we have 12 seasons here. Well, next week our highs drop back into the upper 40s for a few days because, of course, they do. I’ll just keep a heavy coat and maybe an ice scraper on hand for another few weeks just in case.


5. A couple of eye-opening things happened at work this week. Our new CA (chiropractic assistant) tech is learning a few therapies that she didn’t know of at her previous job. One that she’s learning is Myovision. It is a quick way to measure muscle tension in the spine. This, in turn, shows where muscles might be compensating. Things that typical X-rays don’t show. It is done at 3 areas along the spine. When my hip area was measured, it showed a major compensation on my left side, which made sense since a right hip injury several years ago ruined my running career. We tested again, and it was a little better. Then I was asked to take my shoes off and do a third test. To my amazement, the left hip compensation was gone. I was then curious about how much my shoes, and more specifically, my extra insoles in them, contributed to hip and knee issues that have been plaguing me. We moved on to the bilateral scales. I’ve mentioned them before, but in short, they are two scales side by side. You step on each with one foot, staring straight ahead. It then shows you which side bears more of your weight. Without shoes, I was nearly 10 pounds heavier on my right. My left knee has been an issue for the last week or so; it made sense. Then I stood with only the extra insoles under my feet, no shoes. It flipped, and I was nearly 10 pounds heavier on my left. With shoes, I was basically even. My mind was blown by how much those insoles negatively affected my legs. They were immediately thrown in the trash. I guess it was kind of lucky that we did the Myovision test, or else I might have kept doing damage to my legs with those insoles. Oh, and I also found out I am down 14 pounds in 2026, so it was even better news.

An example of the Myovision test results

6. This is the 4th year that I have helped my buddy Steve install and remove a dock in a lake at a couple’s summer house. It’s good money for relatively short work. Granted, it’s me on one end of each of the three dock pieces with two people on the other end, but that’s fine. I am the only one who doesn’t need to get into the water to put in or remove the dock. We install it in April and usually remove it in November. This year, the weather was great, low 60s and sunny when we arrived around 5:30pm. We installed the dock in 15-20 minutes, which included carrying each piece down two sets of stairs. I mention this because the next day at work, I trained a 13-year-old. I have found that if I do the workout with him, he stays engaged. This means I end up burning a fair amount of calories while being paid. What am I getting at? Well, at least for this time, I burned more calories training my 13-year-old than I did installing the dock. Not sure what that says about either situation, but I found it funny because you’d think the dock install would be harder work. Nope. Training a 13-year-old is.


7. A Not Safe For Work but hilarious story. When training any of my teenage clients, I never assume that they have absolutely no knowledge of fitness. Before showing them an exercise, I will ask them: ‘Do you know what...is?’ It could be bird dog, Bulgarian split-squat, pallof press, etc. Typically, they don’t know, so then I go on to explain while I demonstrate. This week I had a 19-year-old in the gym. As I said, I asked him if he was familiar with Exercises A, B, C, etc. Then we came to a bit of interval training to help him with his cardio. I asked him ‘Do you know what a snatch is?’ He did not. It is a legit exercise using a dumbbell or a kettlebell. But in my mind, I immediately thought of the 90s slang for, well, you know. Or maybe not? A female body part. Being 19, he wasn’t well-versed in my GenX slang, so it flew right by without a cross look. I thought that it sounded like the way some 1980s Afterschool Specials would start. Some kid coming home and telling his parents, ‘The teacher asked me what a snatch was today.’ The funniest part was that I told the story to a pair of coworkers. The one who is in her 40s, like me, immediately started cracking up. The other, who is in her early 20s, had no idea what was so funny. Then we had to explain it, which was another hilariously awkward conversation. Stupid exercise. I guess it could be worse; instead of it being called a snatch, it could have been named a cooch or some other slang term from my childhood.




8. I’ve had credit cards, debit cards, gift cards, supermarket rewards cards, Sub Club cards, and so many other random cards. Now I can add a laundromat card to the list. I’ve been doing my laundry at a laundromat for the last few months. No big deal. You go in, pay, wash, and leave. Sure, it’s more expensive than I remember, but what isn’t? This week, I went to do my laundry when I noticed two things. First, the cost of a load of laundry went up $1, which immediately sucks. Next, there was no slot to insert money into the washer. Suddenly, the man who owns the place came up and explained to me the card system. There is a touch screen where you enter cash, and it, in turn, puts that amount on your card. Then you place your card on a reader on the washing machine and hit start, and the washer starts up. You got all that? If not don’t worry, it is needlessly complicated, and I have no idea why a laundromat that looks like it still exists in 1985 needs a touch screen card system for their machines. That flippin’ card system is likely why we’re all getting charged more per load. It just makes me laugh because as this guy was explaining the new system, all I could hear in my head was ‘Why?’ The dude will probably be driving a Porsche in a few months thanks to the ‘new system.’

All that sweet laundromat card money...

9. Flattery will get you everywhere. This week at work, a patient was there who hadn’t been in over a year. She was sitting in the therapy room while I was standing at my desk. I said hello to her and asked how she had been. Then she won the day in my book by asking if I had lost a ton of weight. I haven’t lost ‘a ton,’ but as I mentioned earlier, I have dropped 14 pounds in 2026. But since she hasn’t seen me in over a year, it makes me wonder if I was even heavier the last time she saw me, and if I have dropped more weight? Not sure on that, but another day this week, my mother remarked that she could tell I’ve lost weight, so that means it is noticeable. Despite that good news, I feel like I’m about halfway to what I want to lose, so I’d say another 16 to get me to 30. First though, I’ll make the push for 20.


10. I mentioned in a blog months ago that I am so old now that visiting supermarkets, which I don’t go to often, is considered exciting. This was not the excitement I had in mind. I stopped at a supermarket, which I visit maybe once a year at most. I won’t name them because it is not a good story. I was looking to grab something quick for dinner on the way home from a video shoot. While walking the back wall, near the freezer section, I spotted something out of the corner of my eye. It was something small and brown, and it was scurrying its way along the floor. Yes, it was a mouse, out in plain view in this store. Now, I’m not saying this is a reflection on their cleanliness because it could have just been a one-in-a-million moment. But I will say in my life, I have visited probably dozens of different supermarkets in a bunch of states. I have never, not once, seen a mouse ever, anywhere else. This was the first. So maybe it is a coincidence, maybe I have been around mice in other supermarkets and not seen them. Or maybe this place needs to hire an exterminator and be glad I didn’t whip out my phone and film it and then tag it online, because the mouse was visible long enough that I could have.


11. Although the weather has been the typical bipolar spring we get on Cape Cod, things are starting to bloom. I ventured to a church garden I like to go to for flower photos and videos. It’s not as great as it will be in a month or so, but the daffodils were starting to spring up. I had an idea to use my selfie stick to create a unique perspective. I would hold it low to the ground and navigate it through the field of daffodils from underneath. My experiment caught the attention of a woman and her two granddaughters. They were really nice and actually asked if they needed to be quiet. I laughed and said I had started taking photos at the other end of the garden so I wouldn’t bother them. I showed them my raw video and explained what I was doing. The two girls, who were probably 6 and 8, didn’t care much. After they left, I became obsessed with trying to get a video of an elusive chipmunk that kept coming close but then running away when it saw me. My solution? Set the camera on a tripod and stand as far away as I could, where the Bluetooth shutter would still work. I ended up with about 5 seconds of footage of it running to and from my camera, but now I want to try to get nature spy shots like that of more creatures. Knowing my luck though, a hawk will think my phone looks like food and swoop down and grab it.

Initial Impressions 2.0 Blog #114: Cash Windfall, 2004 All Over Again, Shell Tree Redux, etc.

1. We have a thing in my state, Find Mass Money. It’s for people to check whether they have unclaimed money, property, stocks, or anything like that. I used it once before and had a small amount of money I was owed on a Sears credit card, probably from the early 2000s, back when Sears was still a thing. This week, one of my sisters messaged me saying that they found me on Find Mass Money. I went and checked. It was through Google and had me listed at an address I hadn’t been at since 2010. I was intrigued and claimed my ‘property.’ For a few minutes, it was like waiting for the lottery numbers to get drawn. Would it be some untold fortune that I had forgotten about? Then I got the email. I’d be getting a check sent to me for the sum of $8.29. Yay. Oh well, it is free money. At least I assume it is. I have no clue what I did to earn it. I’m guessing selling ebooks way back then. Luckily, it’ll only be 6 weeks until I get my check. I can buy a small pizza with a coupon code.


2. If I don’t have a client to train at the beginning or end of my shift at work, I will usually adjust my schedule accordingly so I can have a little extra time to do content/creative work. I had a pair of days this week where it was the opposite. I had a client at the beginning and end of my shift, but nothing in the middle. That’s the worst because it leaves me hours to fill. If we have other therapies to do, or if I have paperwork to do, I can make the day not seem excruciatingly long. However, one day this week, I walked in the door and within 5 seconds found out my first client had canceled less than an hour earlier. She said she ‘didn’t feel well.’ I think it was because it was raining. Anyway, the big issue wasn’t the cancellation. It was the fact that I had no other client until 6 hours later. This meant I could have clocked in maybe two hours later and gotten a lot of work done at home. I was pretty angry about that, but I did my best not to take it out on anyone else.


3. Something that doesn’t happen every day. At work, I was leading both a resting and an active metabolic test. The resting is easy. You sit in a dark room for 10 minutes and breathe normally through a mask with a filter, and the data is recorded. The active is more difficult. Think of it as a sort of stress test. You warm up, typically on a treadmill, and then go through an escalating ramp-up. You go until your body has had enough and then get to do a shorter recovery. Again, you breathe through the filtered mask with the data being recorded. When running the treadmill, the speeds can get up there as the client pushes themselves to the brink. When I did my test a few years ago, I was cruising up to 8.8mph on the treadmill. For this active test, I had the client running the treadmill. They were up to 7.9mph. By that point, we had enough data, so I told them that if they wanted to stop, we could. They wanted to go a little longer, which was fine. Then fate intervened. Out of nowhere, a fuse blew and immediately shut the power off to the treadmill. Luckily, the client caught themselves before they went flying into the monitor. I have no idea what happened. We’ve had the same equipment powered on for a few years and never had a fuse blow. It might have been from somewhere else in the building connected to the same circuit breaker. The client definitely wasn’t complaining that the test was just suddenly over, though. That was the most unique ending to one of those metabolic tests.


4. Being that I am knee-deep in Season 3 of Yellowjackets, you could say I was a little happy to see that Christina Ricci, who plays Misty, had joined Threads. Being that I am a big fan of hers and may have had (or still have) a crush on her for 30 years, I wondered if I should message her, welcoming her to Threads. I went halfway and shared a post that I tagged her in, mostly since I am sure she’ll be getting loads of DM’s and other mentions. I have a slightly higher than zero percent chance of her seeing it or responding, but just know that if she does, you’ll be able to hear me fanboying out through your screen.

5. I was partying like it was 2004 this week. The washing machine where I live is down, so I’ve been driving to the next town over to use the laundromat. Back 20+ years ago, I frequented the same spot to do laundry, not to hang out. So that has been a blast from the past. I’ve even taken the scenic route down past where I lived at the time. After putting together my 1990s retro short video on Instagram and busting out an old flannel for it, I had been jonesing to start wearing them again. I haven’t worn a flannel shirt regularly in probably 20 years. I thought that I needed to change and evolve my style as I grew older. This week though, I caved and wore the same flannel I used to wear when going to that same laundromat back in the mid 2000s. I played my new favorite 1990s playlist I created on Spotify, and pulled up to the laundromat feeling like it was 2004. I doubt I’ll go back to torn jeans like back in the 90s though. I’m like a hybrid of several versions of myself now. It’s interesting how you grow and evolve even when you don’t think you are.


6. There are certainly different levels of stupidity in the world. Driving up a sidewalk thinking it’s a road has to be near the top. Yes, I saw this happen this week. A person pulled their car up the paved walkway leading from the sidewalk to a library. Hopefully realizing how dumb they were, they pulled back out onto the main road, took a turn, and drove into the actual library parking lot. How do these morons even have licenses? They were either a moron or drunk. Instead of GPS and onboard computers, new vehicles should have tattlers like some trucks do. These should be connected to the local police or DMV, and they should register when an idiot driver breaks a law or makes a dangerous mistake while driving. It should tally points with some infractions being more than others. Speeding, crossing into the other lane, cutting people off, these things should be added up, and once you hit a certain magic number, your license is revoked, and your car shuts off wherever you are. Then you have to pay to have it towed as an extra kick in the ass for your stupidity. It’s beyond ridiculous the number of stupid drivers I see. They are all ages, too.


7. One of my new favorite things to do is shoot driving content. I open my moon roof and stick my arm out of it while holding my phone. Before we go too far, I have only done this on quiet back roads with nobody driving behind me, not on a main road or highway. I did a trial run of shooting using my selfie stick from the roof. I hadn’t used it before because I was worried the phone would blow away, because of course it would. After a successful video using the selfie stick, I was even more enthused about driving content. I had a plan to drive to Skaket Beach in Orleans. I knew where I could stop, assemble my apparatus, and get to recording. The drive was a minute or so. I was excited because I could hear birds in the trees while driving. I slowly pulled into a parking spot facing the water. It was perfect, or was it? Nope. Apparently, after I hit record on my phone, I accidentally stopped recording before the dang selfie stick was even extended. So my whole drive down was for nothing. What did I do? Drive back out and do it again. Yes, I did the Skaket Beach drive again because the footage was so good. In the end, I parked in the same spot again, between the same cars. I am sure I looked highly suspect.




8. Winter is finally over, yes. But nothing said the winter weather would go away. Having temperatures hovering around freezing and even seeing some flakes this weekend is enough to make me rip my hair out. Everywhere else in the country is seeing record highs, and in New England, it’s mid-30s. I feel like my body and mind have just shut down until we get our first real taste of spring. I just want to sit around and wait for it. Of course, I will force myself outside to get some high-quality video, but if I didn’t have that, I’d literally say call me when it’s 60. It looks like this upcoming week might see us get regularly into the 50s just in time for April to start. Fingers crossed.


9. I was raised at a time when you were basically on your own growing up, and you had to figure most things out yourself. Being a Gen-Xer meant becoming an adult, or at least feeling like an adult, long before you even had your driver’s license. It made you keenly aware and objectively skeptical of nearly everything and everyone around you. I think this protected us who grew up in the 80s and 90s, but it’s not as helpful the older you get. It makes it that much harder for you to open up and ask for help or advice. As I stare down 50, I feel at times like I am still trying to figure out what my path is. I have many things I enjoy, and I believe several useful skills that could be turned into paying jobs that will feel fulfilling. The problem comes with asking for advice. I feel like I should know what it is I want to do and how to get there. So if I never ask outside voices, even close friends and family, what they think, all I get left with is my own voice. My voice has certain beliefs, fears, and hangups. I try, but at times feel like I can’t see beyond the limitations my own voice and thoughts put on me. So it becomes a process where I am on a treadmill with a sail on it. I am constantly moving on the treadmill, but I can only go so far as the wind will move the actual machine. But being on the treadmill feels safer and more secure than stepping off onto the unknown ground.


10. As far as dating sites go, the worst free version has to be eHarmony. There are two giant issues with that site. One is that you don’t see photos. Well, you do, but they’re blurred. Yeah, I know, the site is meant to match you on personality, but come on. I can’t even get a vague idea of what a person looks like. It’s like they’re in witness protection. The other issue that is even bigger is the fact that your matches are based on your state. Anybody from your state is sent as a match on the free version. I live in Massachusetts, so I could, and have, had matches from over 200 miles away. I’m willing to push my match distance to 50 miles, but over 200? Not a chance. That’s just me. Imagine living in California? You could get matched with someone 1,000 miles away. Why even have match distances then? It’s so dumb. Just match everyone in the U.S. with anyone, regardless of distance. The ultimate disaster would be driving 3 hours to meet a match with the blurred face and getting there, and they’re hideous. Now what? Drive all the way home, or waste more money on a hotel for the night? Yikes. You might be asking why I keep my profile there. Probably laziness. I check every so often, get mad at how lame it is, and quickly sign out. Plus, my profile is hidden, so it’s not like I get messages.


11. It’s interesting how many things can change in a few years. No, this isn’t something about life. It’s about a spot I hadn’t been to on Cape Cod in, I’d guess, 5 years. Long Beach in Centerville is ostensibly just the western end of the more well-known Craigville Beach. There is no divider separating the two beaches. At least that’s how it used to be. Years ago, there used to be this amazing dead tree located about a mile walk from the parking area that was adorned with what had to be a hundred or more shells. Some were painted, others were just resting on or tied to the tree. I believe it was either a dead tree or just a gigantic piece of driftwood with numerous branches. Anyway, probably in 2021, word got out that the shell tree had been destroyed. I went out to see, and it was true. All that remained was a few shells on the ground, and I think a sawed-off stump. The rich jerks who owned that piece of beach decided that they needed to put us commoners in our place and ruin something that only brought joy to those who ventured out that way. This weekend, I returned, hoping that maybe a new shell tree had sprung up. I did find one about a mile out. It was much smaller with a few dozen shells on it. The big thing now is that Long Beach is littered with ‘private property’ signs. Granted, you can walk the water line, but the sign says it’s the owner's discretion. So beware, just when you think the rich assholes have forgotten, they’re going to strike and put a barbed wire fence across the beach. Not so that they can enjoy their ‘private property’ but just so that we have less public space to enjoy.

Part of the new, smaller shell tree.

Initial Impressions 2.0 Blog #110: Blizzard of 2026, Power Outages, Odd Captions, etc.

1. The Blizzard of 2026 came roaring in late Sunday night. By sunrise on Monday morning, we had power flash off several times, but luckily, it always came right back on. The funny thing was that I sleep with a white noise machine on, as I am a very light sleeper. Each time the power went off, the machine stopped, and I immediately woke up. The machine has several different sounds to sleep to. The default is running water. So when the power came back on, I was greeted with running water sounds. I would switch it back to the white noise only for the power to go back out a few minutes later. After doing this two or three times, I gave up and left the running water noise on. The white noise machine became my canary in the coal mine during the day. Since I didn’t need any lights on, I knew if that machine stopped, we had lost power.


2. Fittingly, during the day of the blizzard, I got nostalgic and watched a video I had shot with my camcorder of a blizzard we had on Cape Cod in 1996. That one was in the first week of January during my senior year of high school. We had 21” of snow from that. It was wild to see my siblings and me out shoveling during the peak of the storm near 11pm. We also scaled our roof with a ladder. Mind you, I was the oldest at 18, the rest were younger. It was a different time 30 years ago. While watching my brother and me driving around town during the storm in my mother’s blue station wagon, I noticed a few things. First, I was way more reckless with driving, doing fish tails, donuts, and getting stuck in snow banks. Second and perhaps more shocking was how much of an accent I had back then. Not sure if it was a conscious effort to speak without the Cape Cod accent once I started doing author events, or if it’s just something you can lose over time. It’s amazing how fast 30 years can go and not really feel like all that long.


3. One of the silver linings about the blizzard was that I could use shoveling the snow as a workout. I set my Fitbit up and got to shoveling during the height of the storm, around 12:30pm on Monday. It was hard-packed, cement snow, probably over a foot by that time. Despite it being heavy, it was not terrible to shovel since each scoop stayed on the shovel. I shoveled for about 70 minutes and clocked in roughly 715 calories burned. I felt really good about that and was looking forward to a hot shower and a bit of rest while the storm raged on. That was not to be though, as once finished shoveling, I found out that the power had gone out while I was outside. No shower, no hot food, just sitting in silence, slowly draining my phone’s battery. I guess I was foolish to think that power would stay on during one of the biggest storms in recent memory.



4. In total, it was close to 75% of Cape Cod that lost power during the blizzard. I believe at one point, the entire Outer Cape (Wellfleet, Truro, and Provincetown) was without power. I always say that at my age, I am old enough to remember growing up without the technology of the internet and smartphones. It was not some sort of a challenge, but we ended up there anyway. Unsure of how long power would be out, I tried to prolong the life of my devices as long as possible. I had a portable battery called PoweRocks that my mother had given me years ago. Smartly, I charged it before the storm. I used that to prop up my phone’s battery. Once it died, I plugged it into my laptop and drained that battery to slowly recharge the PoweRocks and my phone. When all else failed, I’d go sit in my running car with my phone plugged in. Surprisingly, that didn’t give me as much of a charge as I’d hoped. It was a game of musical chairs with my car, phone, laptop, and portable charger as I tried to keep some sort of connection to the outside world while the blizzard raged and then crews worked to restore power.


5. While out getting the lay of the land the morning after the blizzard, I had a fun adventure with my youngest niece, Sylvie, who lives nearby. I was out filming a video where I stood in a fresh snow drift to show people how deep the snow was when she spotted me. She was able to convince me to go for a walk with her mother and their dog through their neighborhood. It doesn’t take much convincing, though. My mother typically says Sylvie is my boss and can get me to do pretty much anything. The neighborhood we walked in wasn’t plowed at all, which made walking a chore. It was a fun time though, as Sylvie enjoyed diving into the snow and asking me to come and rescue her from it. Eventually, I offered to give her a piggyback ride back to her house. By this point, I had helped do a 2nd shoveling of the driveway on an empty stomach, plus done the walk, so I was tired. If I could have gone back to bed at 8:30am, I would have. Sylvie wanted me to hang out at her house, but I wanted to go home and collapse into a chair. She’s very convincing, but I had to say no. It’s hard because she’s smart and remembers everything. If I said I’d be back later, she’d hold me to it. I had to actually go home and relax, otherwise she’d call me out on it.



6. In total, we got somewhere in the neighborhood of 18-20” of snow on the Mid-Cape. The jackpot was a stretch from Plymouth, MA, down into southwestern Rhode Island. There, they got something like 3 feet of snow. The Blizzard of 2026 was breaking records set by the legendary Blizzard of ‘78. We had wind gusts of 80mph on Nantucket. I think Cape Cod got spared in terms of major beach erosion since the storm’s peak was during low tides. That being said, the videos of the Scituate shore were awful as they typically are during big storms. I have seen countless such videos of huge waves crashing into the sea walls and spraying into the air as high as the roofs of 3-story houses. I love Scituate, but it has to be a blessing and a curse for those who live there. You get beautiful scenery and shorelines, but also the threat of major beach erosion and storm surge damage. As of writing this entry, I believe that more than half of Cape Cod is still without power. It came back on where I live in the middle of the night after about 40 hours of darkness and cold. As I mentioned above, my white noise machine was my canary in the coal mine. I heard it turn on and checked the time. I hope that everyone else gets their power back soon. It’s no fun sleeping in a 55-degree room.


7. Once fully shoveled out, and once I felt the roads were passable enough, I took a little ride. I needed to try to charge my phone, so I figured rather than sitting in the driveway in my car, I’d go see how the area looked. It was an adventure for sure. The roads ranged from passable to totally unplowed. I drive a sedan, so my adventurous side is determined by whether my car can make it. I was more than willing to walk through deep snow to get cool photos and videos. The problem was finding a place where I could park. There was also the issue of downed trees and power lines. There were a few detours caused by trees across the road. I didn’t dare try to get any footage while driving, otherwise I’d end up in one of those ‘idiot driver’ fail videos. In the end, I went and grabbed some food at a supermarket that was open and called it a day. With no power for several days at my work, it left a lot of room for further adventures later in the week.


8. The difference in when certain areas of Cape Cod got their power back meant that, despite getting power back at 4am Wednesday morning, a lot of other places did not have it back. One such place was my work. I ended up with an entire week off from work. It wasn’t planned, and I couldn’t really enjoy it since half of it was under storm conditions. With half of the Cape not having power, all I could really do was sit around and relax, which is not my favorite activity. It’s amazing the luck of the draw where a select few never lost power during the blizzard, others (like me) got it back in a day and a half, while more had to wait 4 or 5 days. There was really no rhyme or reason, but it made me feel like I needed to apologize to those who had longer durations without power, like I had somehow paid off the power gods to give ours back sooner. You’d see a handful of people on social media saying it ‘must be nice’ to have power when, in reality, it was totally random.


9. After a long and cold winter, it’s amazing how good 45 degrees feels. I immediately grabbed my fall jacket to head out into the sun. As bad as the blizzard was early in the week, having several days of temperatures in the 40s did wonders for melting the snow. It also did wonders for the psyche of a lot of us in New England. It honestly has felt at times like winter was never going to end, but now hopefully (knocks wood) the worst is behind us. Those who live in warmer climates wouldn’t understand when we get a 40+ degree day and drive with our windows down and start drinking iced coffee. Yes, we’re kind of crazy, but in a charming way.


10. With my content being more visible on Instagram and TikTok in the last month or so, I am starting to try to put a little more effort into my videos. This means taking a few b-roll shots, doing camera cuts, and trying to turn a 90-second to 2-minute video into a short film. Sure, it might not make much of a difference in the long run, but it actually is fun and gets me some practice in a director’s sense and a layout sense. This video of the damage at Town Neck Beach in Sandwich is an example of what I’m talking about.



11. As I have said many times, when it comes to photography, I practice something called dedication to the craft. That is the idea of getting the photo you want, even if it means disregarding your own safety. Obviously, my risks are calculated, but they are still risks for a good shot. The older I get, the more my practical side starts to take over. I have always seen a few moves ahead in life, and now I have found that seeing those moves can stop me from doing something stupid. For example, and obviously you knew there was an example, this week I went shooting down in Chatham. While at one location, I noticed in the distance on a deserted stretch of beach, there was a grounded boat. I immediately knew I needed to get closer to it. I went to a place called the Monomoy Wildlife Refuge. It’s way out in the boonies of Chatham. From there, I could see the boat and knew a route I could take to get pretty close to it. Sadly, the last few years have seen this location decimated by erosion to the point where there is no beach access from it anymore. Well, technically. Here is the seeing moves ahead part. There is an overlook where you can see the ocean, but the stairs that used to lead you to the beach have been removed. If you walk to the edge of the bluffs, it’s probably a 10-15-foot drop down to the beach below. A few years ago, I’d have jumped off the bluffs, walked the beach, and gotten some sick photos and videos of the boat. Today though, the idea of jumping in the snow and sand and then trying to figure out my way back to the parking lot, all while hoping nobody who lived on the bluffs saw me and decided to make a scene, was all too much. If it hadn’t been winter, I’d have walked to an access trail a half-mile away, but the temperature and time of day wouldn’t allow it. I had to settle for a video from a distance, lame.


12. I like putting captions with all of my videos on social media. It helps people who might not be in a place where they can play a video with sound. As you’d expect with AI deciphering my words, there are lots of inaccuracies, specifically with proper names and locations. This week, I shot a video at the Cape Cod Canal. While I was there, a helicopter flew overhead, and I got a fun shot of it. When I went to add captions to the video, I noticed odd words appearing. While uploading it to TikTok, I noticed a few Arabic words in my captions. Then, when I put the same video up on Instagram, I noticed the phrase ‘oh my god’ was randomly thrown in. It took me a moment to realize that the AI was trying to make words out of the helicopter sounds. So apparently TikTok thinks helicopter noises sound like Arabic, and IG thinks they sound like someone crying out, ‘oh my god.’ Both random and funny at the same time. I did momentarily debate leaving those captions in, but ultimately took them out.


13. I got lucky and experienced a classic Cape Cod sunset on the tidal flats this weekend. All of the ice had melted away, and it looked like it does in the summer. I had a great idea. I would shoot a killer time-lapse video of both the tide rolling in and the sun setting. I used my selfie stick, which is also a tripod, and set my phone up probably 6-7 feet away from the water’s edge and let it roll. I had hoped that the water wouldn’t come in too far before the sun had dipped below the horizon. I watched the video recording, and the water rolled in. It started lapping at the tripod, but I held firm. It began trickling past the tripod, but I wouldn’t relent. I held out as long as I could, but once the water was 5 feet past the tripod holding my phone, I had to rescue it. If I had waited a few moments later, I don’t know if the water eventually would have knocked my phone over. The video was amazing, though. Probably 5 minutes of filming for less than 30 seconds of time-lapse.