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 #124: Hearth n’ Kettle, Auto Acorns, Wild Kingdom, etc.

1. In the northeast, we have a restaurant chain called Hearth n’ Kettle. It’s got an old Colonial motif with classic New England fare. I remember many times going to the location in Yarmouth with family and loving it. A quick search says they originally opened in 1973 and at their peak had 6 or 7 locations. The last several years have been hard for Hearth n’ Kettle. There are only two active locations, with Yarmouth being seasonal at best. This week, when driving home, I passed by that location. In the parking lot was a bus and no other cars. People were standing around the bus, but there were no other cars in the lot. My guess is that they were being taken to Hearth n’ Kettle for dinner. Unfortunately, they are only doing dinner on weekends at this point in the year. I guess nobody bothered to call ahead to make sure they were open. That’s too bad. Papa Gino’s was right down the street, so they should’ve had no trouble finding dinner somewhere close by.

2. There is a trend going around with parents trying to recreate a ‘90s kid’s summer' in the present-day for their kids. I have seen a lot of people saying that just the fact that it is being meticulously planned is the first mistake. Having been a teenager in the 1990s I agree. My friends and I would meet up and just go where the wind blew. We’d take our bikes and not much else and figure things out on the fly. I get it that kids today can’t really just roam far away from home like we did back then. I also get it that today’s parents are those kids who grew up back then and they want to share the nostalgia with their kids. There has to be a happy medium. For a ‘90s kid’s summer’ day, it’s easy; it goes as follows. No phones, stay outside as much as humanly possible, and lunch or dinner must be either at the beach, in the car, or at a place with outdoor seating. Spend at least some time out in nature, even if this is just walking in a park or on the beach. Visit a place you’re familiar with but in a different way. For example, I had been to Pizza Hut numerous times as a kid, but it was a different time when my friends and I rode across town on our bikes to eat there. Luckily, I owned a camcorder back then and took copious amounts of videos of my 90’s summers. Here is a little slice of what it was like back then.



3. This week saw the official launch of the GoFundMe for my feature-length film debut, The Cabin. It is exciting and also nerve-racking. We have a modest budget goal for the film to pay for cast, crew, locations, props, and all of the post work. With roughly 2 ½ months until shooting, there’s plenty of time to get most or all of that goal. If worst comes to worst, my plan is to fill in the gap in the budget with my own money. I believe so strongly in the film that I am willing to put my money where my mouth is. I have wanted to be a filmmaker since I was in high school and spent my savings on a bulky Sears camcorder. Now, 30 years later, that dream is as close to being a reality as it has ever been. There is no way I will let that pass by. The Cabin is a suspenseful, psychological horror film based on a short story that I wrote over 15 years ago. If you can donate to the fundraiser, thank you. If you can’t, please share the link so that others might donate. Updates will be coming over the next several months.


4. Welcome to June in New England. You’d think that the month where summer starts would be filled with relatively warmer weather. For the most part, you’re right, until you’re not. On June 2nd, we woke up with a low of 37 degrees on Cape Cod. Not sure if that’s a record. Considering that because we stick out into the ocean, the temperatures on Cape Cod are usually warmer, I am guessing that places in northern New England must have had some temperatures dip below freezing. Luckily, looking ahead for the next two weeks, I don’t see anything close to those chilly temperatures returning. I’m not saying that I’m looking for temperatures in the 90s with high humidity, but after the winter we had in New England, I’d like to have some heat before the cold returns.


5. I didn’t expect the sense of panic that washed over me one morning this week when I grabbed my Fitbit off its charger only to find that the battery was nearly dead. As I stared at the screen with it reading 4% battery, I was freaking out. I need my Fitbit to track my calories burned so I know exactly how much I can eat for dinner. It’s not quite an obsession, but when you’re hurtling toward 50, tracking your fitness becomes more important. I mean, it should always be important, but when you’re in your 20s and 30s, time is on your side, and you have more room for error. That morning was a mashup of me charging the Fitbit in the car on the way to work and then sitting at my desk with it charging enough that I could wear it. I figured if I was just sitting there, I wasn’t accumulating steps or really burning calories, so I was safe. It turned out that I simply hadn’t secured the Fitbit to the charger, which was why the battery just died overnight. At least I hope that was it. There hasn’t been another issue during the week, so I think my nightmare of the dead Fitbit battery is over, but we’ll see. This is the true definition of ‘first-world problems.’


6. A few weeks ago, I mentioned that I decided to do a rebrand of my content creator page on Facebook. Instead of exclusively focusing on my podcast, I opened it up to everything that I do. Podcasting, while probably my favorite thing I create, is only a small piece of the pie. I also have had 10 books published, have written something like a thousand blogs, have created probably close to 800 YouTube videos, and countless photo and video posts on social media. I figured after all of these years, it might be wise to share all of what I do. It could lead to more followers. This week’s portion of this rebrand was changing my Patreon page. If you’re unsure of what Patreon is, it is a membership service where a creator in any field can garner subscribers, whether paying or free. It allows someone to support someone whose work they enjoy while, in turn, getting exclusive content or products in return. Anyway, changing your page can be risky because if someone has become a subscriber based on the podcast, they could see the change and think that I am totally scrapping what they became a member for. I created a short post explaining my choice, and hopefully, it will entice more people to come and join. Naturally, I have a link to the page here. No pressure to join, just check out the free tier.



7. I do quite a bit when it comes to creative work. Podcasts, videos, books, blogs, burgeoning film career, and even photography. Despite having a photo book, an Etsy shop, and having shared thousands of photos on social media, one thing I have never done is promote myself as a professional photographer. I mean, like the type who takes jobs shooting weddings and other events. So you’d imagine my surprise when out of the blue I get an email from a stranger asking about my availability to shoot a school reunion in the upcoming weeks. I will admit I briefly thought about accepting, but it came down to time and commitment. I don’t have the time in my schedule to take many hours out to prepare, scout, shoot, and then edit photos. I also just didn’t have the desire to open that door. I don’t have professional equipment besides my DSLR camera. I have no desire to spend boatloads of money buying the equipment I’d need, either. I referred them to a friend who is an actual professional photographer. I will do photo shoots for people, but only family and friends.


8. I used to be more handy when it came to cars. My first few autos I owned were older and often needed work. They lent themselves to being easier to fix, even if you weren’t knowledgeable. I knew how to do most things to fix those old cars. As cars got newer, they needed less work, and I found myself bringing them to mechanics for everything. I have had my current car for almost 12 years. It has 164,000 miles on it and still runs pretty well for an older vehicle. I’d also like to keep it running for 100,000 miles or more. I know I don’t have the skills to repair major issues with my car, but I figure smaller, simpler things I can handle. I decided this week to swap out my engine air filter. It’s very basic. You flip open a box, grab the old filter out, replace it with the new one, and close the box. The first rule of changing the air filter is to make sure you get the right one. No, not the one that will fit your vehicle, I mean the engine filter and not the cabin air filter. I got the wrong one by mistake and immediately had to go back to Auto Zone and replace it. Smart. Oh, but it gets better. I decided to just swap them out in the parking lot. I opened the hood and opened the black plastic box. I removed the old filter, but not before noticing underneath the filter, there was a pile of acorn shells. Nice. I am sure that’s been helpful for my airflow. While I was greasy and had the hood up, I opened the engine compartment. There, I also found some acorn shells. What the hell? Did a squirrel sabotage my car? Have I just not checked my car for so long that the occasional acorn shell got under my hood over the months and collected that much? I’ll have to pay attention if my car starts running smoother after removing those acorn shells. I feel like there would have been fewer of those acorns if I had found a car abandoned in a field behind a decaying barn.


9. There was a classic photo trip this week. My cousin Patrick is visiting Cape Cod from Las Vegas. Even though he had lived here for many years, there are a lot of places he’s unfamiliar with. I was tasked with finding some worthwhile places to shoot. It wasn’t hard. We stuck to the eastern part of the Cape, the towns of Brewster, Orleans, Chatham, and Harwich. I was actually surprised that there weren’t more people around because it was a mostly sunny weekend. We spent much of the afternoon cruising around getting great photos. Perhaps the best part, though, was at the end when I was dropping him off to get his car, and we sat and chatted for close to two hours. It was a fun talk about growing up, our family, and life in general. I think it was the first true, deep, long, drawn-out conversation we’d had like that. It was definitely a day I am so glad we had.

My cousin standing in the Chatham labyrinth.

10. The photo trip ended up being like an episode of Wild Kingdom. Oh sure, we saw the typical array of birds and loads of insects, but we also saw unusual animal guests during the day. First was a gigantic snapping turtle at the Stony Brook Herring Run in Brewster. A young couple asked if we had seen it, and so we rushed over to see a turtle in a shallow creek. This snapper had to have a shell that was a foot and a half across. I bet it weighed 30 pounds. I got some good video as I lowered my phone down using my selfie stick. Luckily, the turtle simply dropped its head below the water and didn’t try to snag my phone like it was a Ritz cracker. Next up was an eastern milksnake behind the Crosby Mansion in Brewster. It was lying in the grass, probably not expecting to have two people come walking up on it. The snake was probably four feet long and was blue and white striped. It slithered off into the brush, but not before I got a great video of it. Finally, at the Chatham Fish Pier, there were several gray seals. They are pretty common there now as they hover around the fishing boats after docking in the hopes of a stray fish being lost overboard. They are like 400-pound seagulls. That being said, the videos of them floating on their backs and looking like dogs make for easy content that people love.




11. It wasn’t all fun and games on the photo trip, though. Being early June, the bugs have started to take control. I have to make a choice when going outside, bug spray or sunscreen. I’m sure you could do both, but how much soupy spray do you want on yourself while trying to enjoy a day outside? I chose sunscreen. I definitely don’t regret it since I was outside for several hours and didn’t end up looking like bacon-wrapped lobster. While we were wandering the woods looking for a hidden cemetery in Harwich, I wished I had added a splash of bug spray. The mosquitoes were everywhere. My cousin was fine having used the bug spray. I got a few nibbles, but nothing prepared me for what awaited back in the car. As we pulled out of the trail parking lot, I could see a stray mosquito hovering around. It landed on my arm, and I knew I had it dead to rights. I gave it a smack. Yes, I killed it, but it also exploded in a ghastly spread of blood on my arm and hand. Here I am trying to drive while trying to clean someone else’s blood off my hand and arm. I was also trying to not smear blood on my steering wheel. It was some nasty stuff. Next time, I’ll create the mixed cocktail of sunscreen and bug spray.


12. Publishers Clearing House, it was not. This week, I got a letter in the mail from the Massachusetts Treasury Department. Excitement was in the air once I realized it wasn’t a bill. I was getting money back from the state. Now, to be honest, I already knew what was in the envelope. I had been on the Find Mass Money website as a person who had some cash owed to them. I believe that mine had to do with overcharging on an old, very old Sears credit card. My enthusiasm over the check I got was tempered a little when I saw the amount: $8.80. So yeah, no secret millions came to me. In fact, it isn’t enough to get a pizza, but it can be a down payment on one. I held out hope for a misprint, but sadly, it was just enough for two gallons of gas in this day and age.

The Final Classic Story From My Nana's Life

Social media has been a part of my life since 2003, when I created my profile on Friendster. It has been mostly a blessing as it allows me to keep in touch with family and friends while also sharing my work, thoughts, and random moments from life.

In one major way, it has been a blessing because it serves as a makeshift journal chronicling my life. Anything on Friendster has long since been lost. Anything on Myspace, at least from its heyday, has also been lost. The biggest storage container of the memories of my life on social media is Facebook.

Since the spring of 2007, my life and the events of it have been shared on Facebook. Every day I look at the ‘Memories’ page, and it brings me back to different chapters of my life. It’s amazing to think that I started on Facebook at 29, and later this year, I will turn 49. It’s getting very close to half of my life.

A recent post from the memories page is what spurred this article on. When it comes to my grandparents, the three who were alive during my lifetime at least, my final memories of them are different. Not so much the very end. They were all sad, but in a small way, also a relief because they were all old and suffering to a different degree. I am looking at the final full years of their lives.

My Grampa’s final year, May 2018 through May 2019, is burned into my mind. He was trending downward from the effects of dementia. The older memories still remained, but ask him about present-day, and it was a lot of stammering and blank stares.

My last truly wonderful moment with my Grampa was sharing a photo of his childhood home in Fitchburg, Massachusetts, with him in November 2018. From then on out, it was a rapid decline and an end that was sad, but a relief because, as I said, he was suffering.

My Grampa's childhood home in Fitchburg, MA

My Nina’s final year, March 2020 through March 2021, was awful. I am sure most of you see the timeline there and know what was going on. My Nina’s final year was spent in lockdown at the assisted living facility she had been at.

The sad irony was that I had been working at that same place and had access to her every day I worked. I would visit every day, bring the foods she liked, including raising toast and bacon. If anybody questioned it, I said I was family, and I was giving her what she wanted, and basically, they couldn’t stop me.

Mere weeks before the COVID pandemic shut the world down, I left that job. I was looking for part-time so that I could start getting back into personal training. It was a huge mistake. The new job was a terrible step down, with or without the pandemic. Leaving my Nina on her own when I had been there has left me with guilt that I might never live down.

When it comes to my Nana, things are a bit blurry. Her last year was December 2008 through December 2009. With my Nina and Grampa having lived until much more recently, I have found that their lives remain fresh in my mind. Having been nearly 17 years since my Nana died, it can be hard to form a clear picture of her last year.

My last real memory of my Nana in a normal sense was around my birthday in early November 2009. I would always visit her even as I grew older into my 30s. It wasn’t until after she had ended up in an assisted living facility at the end that a few things became clearer.

Her memory was slipping, but at 85, that was to be expected. Physically, she had much more trouble walking. It became more of a shuffle. This actually led to a funny story during those final months.

I was sitting at the dining room table as I had done hundreds of times in my life. I believe that I had my laptop open and I wanted to show her something. Sitting on the floor next to me was Nana’s cat Mittens. She was a black and white striped cat who, by that time, had to have been 15 years old.

Nana came over to look, but in doing so stepped on Mittens’ tail. She screamed out and tried to run away. My Nana, with her legs weak and heavy now, couldn’t lift her foot fast enough. It ended up looking like a cartoon with Mittens jumping into the air with all four feet elevated, but stuck by her tail under Nana’s foot. Eventually, she lifted her foot, and Mittens ran off. Her anger only lasted until Nana opened a fresh can of cat food for her. This video is from October 2009, just over two months before my Nana died.

The social media aspect of this post comes through when I had a memory pop up from May 2009. A story I had totally forgotten about. I will share it, but it also made me want to take a trip back in time and see what other sorts of stories I might have shared during my Nana’s final year.

The final hurrah in terms of classic memories with my Nana actually has little to do with her. She was more of a background player in what turned out to be a typical event in my life.

It all began with a car accident. I was at a pretty rural intersection in Yarmouth. I had never before, or since, had anything remotely odd happen at that meeting of the roads. On this date, August 27, 2008, I stopped, looked both ways, and started through the intersection. Then I saw it.

A car came barreling around a bit of a blind corner. It flew through the intersection. I had a moment to cut my wheel and turn away before the car t-boned me. It hit me on the driver’s side just in front of the tire, spinning me around. My airbag didn’t deploy, which was great. If I hadn’t cut the wheel, who knows what types of injuries I would have had?

My totaled Saturn

I was fine and stepped out of my car only to see the other vehicle slowly, very slowly, driving away. I chased after it, yelling and swearing because this jerk had slammed into me and was trying to sneak away like they were a naughty child. It turned out I wasn’t too far off.

A neighbor ran out and chased the car down while another man came out to check on me. It ended up being the same man who was our school police officer at my high school back in the day. He’s asking me if I’m okay, and I’m getting excited to see him because it has been 20 years.

The man who hit me ended up being 95 years old. Insurance took care of everything, but unfortunately, my Saturn Ion was considered totaled. I ended up having to get a rental car for a few days while beginning the search for a new car. The tie to my Nana was that I was heading to her house after work on that day. So I ended up not making it due to my car being totaled.

This time, instead of choosing a smaller sedan that was good on gas, I went with a Jeep Liberty SUV. 4X4, heated leather seats, moon roof, terrible gas mileage, but whatever. I loved it.

The winter was great. I didn’t have to worry about getting stuck in the snow or sliding on ice with my Jeep. I figured that the accident with my previous vehicle was an anomaly and a story I’d be telling for years. It turned out that there was a sequel on its way.

Flash forward to May 25, 2009, and the reason for this entire post. Thanks for making it this far.

I was at my Nana’s house. It was getting dark, so it must have been closing in on 8pm. I was probably watching a rerun of The Simpsons with my father while Nana was sitting at the dining room table.

From outside, I heard a crash. Thinking there had been a collision, I jumped up from the chair and looked outside. I spotted a sedan to the right side just at the edge of my Nana's yard. Its front end was smoking, but it was still trying to drive off. There was no other vehicle until I realized what had collided with that car: my parked Jeep.

This vehicle had slammed into the rear end of my Jeep while doing a U-turn in the middle of the road. Then they tried to sneak off, much like the old man the previous August. I knew that my rear axle had to be trashed from the collision.

I ran outside yelling at the other car. This scrawny guy steps out. He was probably around my age, then early 30s. I could tell he must have been on something by the way he was speaking in stuttering phrases while being very jittery.

Flashbacks of my Saturn popped into my head, and I started going off on the guy. How could he be so reckless as to slam into my parked car? I wasn’t in the middle of the street. I asked him if he was drunk, and suddenly his demeanor changed.

He started begging me not to call anybody. He begged to be able to go inside and talk to the people in there. So this tweaking weirdo wanted to go inside and talk to my 85-year-old grandmother? No way.

By this point, my Nana had come to the door to see what was up. This bag of bones sees her and starts calling out to her. He’s begging to be allowed to go in and talk to her. Why? Honestly, what did he need to speak to my Nana? To plead his case? You hit my car, pal. Plead your case to me.

I stood between him and the front door, telling him explicitly that there was no way I was letting him near my Nana. I demanded his insurance info. Now my father had come out, and the other guy finally relented. Granted, he was still pleading his case, but what could he say? He hit a parked car like a moron.

I remember being so mad. Part of me was mad that I had stayed a little longer at my Nana’s. The whole situation could have been avoided if I hadn’t been there. That was just misguided anger. It was a random coincidence that nobody could have predicted.

I believe I drove my Jeep home, but then I didn’t dare to drive it. The sketchy other driver continued to bat 1,000 by ducking his insurance company for days. I had to think seriously about going to the police to get this guy to cooperate. I was also shopping around for a good, reliable mechanic to fix the Jeep.

A few days were spent chasing the guy down and getting his insurance company to handle the claim. I did a lot of walking until I got a rental car, which ironically ended up being the same model as a friend at work. That should be where the story ended, but it wasn’t.

A rare photo of that rental car.

You’d think that it would be as easy as bringing the Jeep to the mechanic and getting the rear axle fixed. Nope. Come on, why would it be that easy? From the day that the accident happened to the day that the Jeep was 100% again was two months.

Not only did it need a new rear axle, but a new fuel tank as well. There was also confusion from both insurance companies as to the actual place where my vehicle was. I had to deal with the idiot who hit my car, calling me angrily, asking about where my Jeep was. In reality, the guy was pissed that he had caused way more damage than he thought. It’s like, hey dude, don’t drive like a moron, and things like this won’t happen.

After five weeks of rental cars, walking, and even riding bikes, I got my Jeep back. Almost immediately, my battery died. It was a comedy show, as anytime I wanted to go somewhere, I had to pop the hood and jump my battery. I believe I had borrowed a portable battery charger. This was every single time I needed to start it. So back to the mechanic it went.

As I mentioned, it was two full months before the Jeep was purring like a kitten again. I loved that vehicle, but an issue would rear its ugly head. Gas prices. Shortly after my Nana died in the last week of 2009, I started doing road trips to cope. I took photos and wrote articles about the places I saw. Those articles are actually way, way back in the archives of this blog.

Gas prices were nearly as high as they are in 2026. Each trip I took got further from home and cost more. I knew I had to make a choice. It was either the road trips that were soothing my soul after my Nana’s death, or the Jeep that up to that point had been my favorite vehicle I had.

In the end, I chose the road trips. I sold the Jeep and got a Ford Focus. Great gas mileage, average looking, but it allowed me to keep logging loads of miles. It worked out for the best.

Me parking my new Ford in some odd places.

Only when going through my Facebook archives did I come upon this story of the Jeep accident. It makes me glad that I have shared as much as I have on social media. I have a great memory, but some things slip through the cracks.

Besides that accident and her standing on Mittens’ tail, there aren’t many memories I have from my Nana’s final year. Luckily, in her case, and the case of all of my grandparents, I have more than enough memories to keep them alive inside my mind for as long as I live.

That is a big reason why I choose to share stories like this. Sure, it’s kind of funny, but it’s also a way to keep my Nana’s memory alive. She might have been gone for going on 17 years, but she created a legacy, and I am a part of that. It is partially my duty to her that I keep the legacy going. I take great pride in that duty.

Initial Impressions 2.0 Blog #121: Aging Gracefully, Mall Dreams, Fox Family Fun, etc.

1. I am now at the point where I feel weird if I am not actively involved in watching a show on Netflix. I finished the Stranger Things animated spin-off and rolled right into the thriller series His & Hers. That was also really good. It was only 6 episodes, though, so I ran through it in less than a week. Now I have moved on to another suspense/thriller series, The Beast In Me, starring Claire Danes. I already like this one as well. I must admit it’s different seeing the same Claire Danes from My So Called Life as a middle-aged actor, but it can’t be that strange since she and I are basically the same age. It must be something about aging. Like when I was 15, seeing someone near 50, they looked old. Now at 48, I look at Claire Danes, who is 47, and she looks great. She looks her age but has aged well. Not sure how to describe it. Is it something in our minds that makes us look at age differently when we reach those same numbers? 48 doesn’t look old anymore because I am it. I guess I’ll have to wait and see if I still think Claire Danes looks great when we’re both in our 80s.

2. I have gotten a lot of positive feedback on my driving videos on social media. I extend my selfie stick up through my moon roof and lock it into place while I take a drive to somewhere on Cape Cod. I typically drive to a beach. Luckily, there are a lot of beaches for me to showcase on social media. The question remains though, what happens when I run out of beaches? I suppose I could just drive every random road. It would be the law of diminishing returns, though. I got from driving to a beautiful beach, and then it goes to me driving to the nearest Cumberland Farms or Dunkin’ Donuts. The more I think about it, the more I believe that there would be an audience. It would likely be old-time Cape Codders who would want to comment by mentioning what used to be located where I was driving. We’ll see if it comes to that. I still have a long way to go until then.



3. I have vivid dreams quite often. I also am pretty good at lucid dreaming, which is when you become aware you are dreaming and basically can start to control and manipulate things. That being said, I can’t tell myself before I sleep that I will dream of X, and then it happens. So when I have had a pair of vivid dreams over the last few weeks that include me hanging out with family and friends at some sort of 1990s mall, it must mean something. Either I miss hanging with certain people, or I miss standing around in the mall with nothing to worry about except whether I can afford something from the food court and a new CD. The first dream had family, including my three sisters, but also my Nina, who passed in 2021. We were out in front of where Filene’s used to be in the old Cape Cod Mall. The second one was weirder, including one sister and another good friend. The weird part was that the mall was a circle with five long hallways extending out from the circle. This is where the stores were, including Kmart and a Hallmark store. To top it off though, there was a kiosk that was selling pretzels stuffed with buffalo peanut butter. I am assuming buffalo like the spice, not like the animal, but I didn’t try one, so who knows?


4. Over the last 30 years, I have tried pretty much everything when it comes to supplements and energy drinks. There have been some that I have really liked and thought that they were well worth the price, and possible risks. I have tried some things that have been banned, like Ephedra Tea. I have tried things that have had their formulas changed, like Jack3d and NO Explode. I have tried things that have been discontinued, like Speed Stack. That being said, I have never tried an energy drink because its name made me laugh. That changed this week. I am sure some of you have heard of BUM Energy. I had never had a desire to try it until I saw one of their flavors. Dr. BUM. Just its name makes me laugh. It sounds like a name that should be reserved for a superhero proctologist. If you have it, you will quickly notice that it’s a take on Dr. Pepper. I like it, but the name bumped a 6/10 drink to an 8/10. Ha ha, Dr. BUM.


5. It was a comedy of errors this week, one day at work. The rest of the staff was done early, but I had more than an hour to wait for my last client to show up to train. I wasn’t sure if she was going to make it, so a text was sent to try to confirm. I didn’t want to sit around and wait for nothing. Unfortunately, mere minutes after that text was sent, an auto text went out to remind her of the appointment, so she never saw the previous one. So I waited. Another patient had forgotten their coat, and they were coming in to get it. I had to wait by the front door since there was nobody at the desk. While I was chatting and handing off the coat, my computer decided to install updates and restart. It took way too long to come back on, and then when it did, I had trouble remembering the password since we recently changed it. I was figuring the client would have responded to the text by then. By the time I was back online, my last client was late. I needed to take the trash out, but didn’t want to have her show up to an empty office while I was outside. In the end, she did show up, 25 minutes late, as I was reaching for the front door to lock it. We still did the full training session, plus I was getting paid, so it was no big deal.


6. After seeing a pallet of sod rolls while out on a walk this week, I am suggesting that we change their name to ‘grass Yodels.’ You can’t look at a roll of sod and not tell me it looks like a green, far less tasty, version of the snack cake. If you want to call them Swiss grass Rolls, I will accept it as well. Not sure how much more expanding on this random, foolish idea I can do. It made me laugh, and of course, I have photos so that you can now not unsee the similarity. I will say, don’t try to eat a grass Yodel. Hey, I can’t stop you if you’re really determined to eat grass, but I can say I tried.

7. It was seven years ago this week that my hero, my Grampa, passed away. He was the epitome of strength right up until the last several months when dementia finally got its claws into him. Despite being gone for so long, I do my best to keep him as a part of my life. Upon his death, my mother gave us kids each a green Irish Beanie Baby, sort of representing Grampa. I have that on hand at all of my author events. I also have his old compass. It is about a hundred years old and makes for a great photo prop. This week, to remember him, I went past my grandparents' old house on my walk. They lived there back in the 1990s, but outside it still looks the same, so it’s a nice flashback. In the afternoon, I took the compass and my new large crystal ball and went for a photo trip to the local beaches. I know one particular beach where there is a cherry blossom tree. My Grampa was a jazz singer, and we kids all remembered him singing ‘It looks like rain in Cherry Blossom Lane.’ I like combining the cherry blossoms with the compass. The photo session mostly consisted of me trying to balance the giant crystal ball and the compass on branches in the tree. The last thing I wanted was having the compass fall and the ball drop on it, and both smash. It ended up going well, as you can see in the photo.



8. I always admire and get a bit jealous of nature photographers. I can’t afford a $10K zoom lens, so typically I have to settle for long-distance shots. Then again, sometimes I get lucky. While at the same beach where I was shooting the crystal ball and compass, I noticed something, actually several somethings. I was trying to set up a photo when I saw a fox sitting on the other side of the parking lot. Even better was that behind the fox I spotted three little kits, or pups. My crystal ball photos immediately took a back seat to filming little foxes jumping and playing. It was the type of video I’d always hoped for but never expected. During the half hour or so that the foxes were around, the babies played, and the mother left and then returned with dinner for the little ones. I think it was a rabbit. At one point, the mother circled me, but not menacingly. She had spotted what looked like a chicken leg that some dumbass had just left in the grass. So I had the mama fox behind me and the babies in front. The only thing I didn’t get that I wanted was the babies coming and inspecting my camera. I kept leaving my camera on the tripod in different areas where the babies were hanging out. I had my remote shutter and was hoping they would be curious. Nah, once the mother brought back dinner, they all retreated. I plan on going back to that spot next week to see if I get lucky again.



9. I returned to the new Parker’s River Landing in Yarmouth this week to visit my Uncle Eric’s memorial plank on the boardwalk. This time, though, it was a family affair as his son, my cousin Patrick, and a few longtime family friends, went to toast to him. It was a beautiful sunny day, and we shared a few stories and laughs, but it was bittersweet. My uncle’s death three years ago wrecked me. Most don’t know how badly. This is mainly because I don’t talk about it since I believe nobody would listen or care. I have learned as I get older that few people will actually listen to you. For the most part, people wait for you to stop talking so they can then try to one-up you with whatever issue is going on. ‘You think that’s bad, well I have X going on.’ So I just keep it to myself, or blogs like this. I look to my cousin and aunt and see how they hold it together, so I owe it to them to do the same. I mean, if they can pull through after losing their father and husband, what right do I have to feel so bad about losing my uncle, right?

10. After visiting my uncle’s plank it was time to venture over to his favorite restaurant, Capt. Parker’s. Luckily, it is literally right across the street from the park. We walked over, having to wait for kind drivers to let us cross the busy Rt. 28. Hopefully, they will put a crosswalk in there because we aren’t the first, and sure won’t be the last, to try to walk across to Capt. Parker’s. The food was great. The prices were fine, depending on what you got. Fried chicken sandwich, $17, I guess that’s to be expected in this day and age. Fisherman’s Platter? $45. Nah, I’ll pass. I could get myself food to make 6-7 meals for that price. The best is the several items that were listed as ‘market price.’ This basically means they can charge as much as they want and say it’s because of how much the product costs, typically lobster. Thankfully, I can’t stand lobster, so I’d never have to play the guessing game of ‘market price’ before having to make a car payment on a child’s handful of lobster in a roll. We enjoyed our food and then, to make sure we got our money’s worth, stayed an extra hour chatting and laughing, all while the waiter kept walking by. Hey, we paid, and you got a good tip, so relax.

11. It is mid-May, so to no surprise this was the week to get my first sunburn. It wasn’t bad. The day was sunny and low 60’s and breezy by the water, so I had a thin long-sleeve shirt on. Plus, now that I have hair and don’t shave my head weekly, I don’t have to worry about sunburns on my scalp. Those sucked, I probably could have fried eggs on my head. This time it was just my forehead and the back of my neck. Well, and one other area. The long sleeves covered just below my wrists for the most part. At the end of the day, I ended up with half of my hands red. It literally looked like I had stuck my fingers in boiling water. I guess that’s not as bad as getting the driving tan where one arm is red, and the other is not, from resting your arm on the open window while driving.

Initial Impressions 2.0 Blog #115: Sickness Jinx, Tax Fun, Hey I Know You, etc.

1. I have been pretty vocal about the fact that I haven’t gotten sick in close to two years. It might be minor, but I think it’s finally caught up to me. My coworker was out for a few days with the flu, and I was still feeling good and confident. Then my head started hurting, and my body felt weak and heavy. It wasn’t enough to keep me from working, but it was enough to make a few days feel pretty rough. I was lucky to not have any throat, stomach, or diarrhea issues. It was just the aches in the head and body. I don’t play, though, when it comes to being sick. I went to the store and grabbed Emergen-C for my immune system. Even if it’s a minor inconvenience compared to having the flu, I still hate being sick and will do the equivalent of dropping an anvil on an ant hill to feel better as fast as I can.


2. Some people either have no filter or don’t know how to read a room. At my job this week, I had one of the weirdest interactions yet. A woman came in to use our PEMF (pulsed electromagnetic field) mat. I put a link in there for you to look up what it is if you’re curious. Anyway, she’s lying on the table on top of the mat, and I begin to turn up the intensity. Unprompted, she remarks about a sign above my desk that says ‘Attempted Murder’ and is a picture of two crows. Because a group of crows is known as a ‘murder.’ That’s not the weird part. No, that came when she said, ‘every time I come in here and see that sign, I think of my three friends who were murdered.’ Like, wait, what? You had three friends get murdered? I don’t know why she brought that up to me. I don’t know her well and focused on getting the PEMF up and running and returning to work. How do you respond to that? It’s like, think of the most awkward thing you could possibly say to basically a total stranger. Hey, that sign there makes me think of my three friends who were murdered. Yay, thanks. I’m not taking the sign down, so you’re gonna have to close your eyes every time you come in.

The exact sign above my desk

3. There are few sounds more terrifying than the sounds of your pants tearing as you squat down. I was in the middle of training someone, and I demonstrated a squat, and I could feel something give way. The last thing I was going to do was immediately reach into my crotch to see if what I heard was real. I had to just hope my face didn’t give it away. Once I got home, I did in fact find a nice tear in my jogger pants. In fairness, I have had them for a few years, and I have worn and washed them a ton. I did get my money’s worth. But still, this is not like high school, where I’d wear my torn jeans until they basically floated away like dandelion spores. Nope, those joggers were into the trash, and I was off to Marshalls to find some new ones.


4. Something that was brought to my attention this week was a possible new side gig. Airbnb Experiences is where people offer services in areas where rentals are on the site. You know, like a wine tasting in Napa Valley, etc. Having seen how much interest my Cape Cod content has received, especially the lesser-known places, putting together some kind of experience-based content around that might work. I can’t take credit for the idea, which belongs to my friend and coworker Heather, whose husband, Aaron, recommended it to me. Now, before you go booking your Cape Cod escapes with me, there are a lot of steps between now and then. I need a name, an actual itinerary, pricing, figuring out logistics, and crafting a proposal for Airbnb. Maybe it happens. Maybe it doesn’t. People have suggested for years that I do some sort of Cape Cod tour focusing on the lesser-known places and connecting it to my 12th-generation lineage. It all comes down to time and money. If I put in all of the effort of putting this job together, and then it doesn’t pan out, who knows how much money I’ll have spent? Of course, I’m only in the early brainstorming stages, so there will likely not be any news for a few months.


5. I’m not famous by any stretch of the imagination. So when I get recognized in public for my work, it’s both thrilling and surprising. I was in a supermarket at night this week. I got to the self-checkout, and a woman came up to the next register. Out of the blue, she said, ‘I follow you on social media.’ She told me how much she enjoyed my Cape Cod videos, which I’ve been sharing on Instagram, and that she shared them with her son, who lives in another state. She was very nice and complimentary, and part of me didn’t know how to respond. Mostly, what I mean is I didn’t want to get too excited that someone followed and enjoyed my content. My happiness couldn’t be contained, though. I just thanked her and told her I appreciated her kind words. I think part of it is that I am naturally introverted, so I tend to not initiate conversations with strangers. The fact that she took that risk and approached me, I respected, and I did my best to be outgoing but not pompous or anything. Act like you’ve been there is the phrase. Can you tell I overthink things? Anyway, it was a great experience, and I am so grateful to anyone who takes the time to check out my videos, blogs, books, podcasts, etc. Thank you.


6. Finally, I got around to watching the fourth Beverly Hills Cop movie on Netflix. I had so many shows I needed to binge that I totally forgot I wanted to check it out. It was definitely a fun, nostalgic ride for me, who is a big fan of the first two films in the series. They even brought back basically everyone who they could to be in this film. There are a few new, younger characters to freshen it up, including Taylour Paige, who plays Axel’s estranged daughter. She plays Charlotte Hanlon, Will’s mother, in IT: Welcome To Derry. The famed Axel F theme song was all over the movie, and many other songs from the movies got sprinkled in. If you enjoy the classic 1980s Eddie Murphy, you’ll like the fourth Beverly Hills Cop film. Sadly, John Ashton, who played Taggert, died shortly after it was released, so the fifth film, which apparently is already in development, won’t see him in it. I’m doing my best to not spoil anything for anyone who is going to watch it, but just know I thoroughly enjoyed it.

7. There are few things I enjoy less than doing my taxes. When I was younger and actually got refunds, I was first in line, or online, to get them filed and to get that sweet refund money. Since Massachusetts made it a penalty to not have health insurance, I routinely have to pay state taxes. That, plus I get some money from my book sales. I have to laugh because health insurance is so damn expensive, and my job doesn’t offer it, so I choose to go without it. I’m sure it isn’t the best option, but when money is tight, you take the devil you know (paying a penalty) versus the devil you don’t (paying a monthly insurance premium). Anyway, I chose to leave TurboTax and to try Free Tax USA, mainly because I saved about $100 in costs to file my taxes. Luckily, besides my book royalties, my taxes are pretty simple, so I don’t worry about making mistakes. It’s literally just my one job W-2, and a couple of 1099s for writing, no real funny business. So there you go, if you haven’t filed your taxes yet, try Free Tax USA over Turbo Tax.


8. Now that I am doing way more in the world of content creation, my mind is always going to where I can stop and grab a few quick videos when I am driving somewhere. A benefit of having lived on Cape Cod most of my life is that I know pretty much any spot that might fit that bill. This weekend, while driving home from Market Basket (always a fun field trip), I stopped at the beloved Sandwich Boardwalk. The plan was to walk the entire length of the boardwalk and shoot it in 4K. I did that, but was not expecting the cuteness overload that happened twice. There was a family there trying to skip rocks in the marsh creek. It was mom, dad, a little boy, and a little girl. The little girl was maybe two years old at most, and she came literally toddling toward me on the boardwalk. She had one of those adorable knit hats with little round ears on the top. When she came up to me, she had the biggest smile and was waving. I asked her if it was cold at the beach, and she just smiled. On I went. When I was coming back, the family was heading in my direction, and again the little girl stared, smiled, and waved. I basically ignored the parents to make sure I said hi again to the little one. I do it because I enjoy little kids. I also imagine that at a young age, when they’re still forming views of people in general, I’d rather become a positive memory of theirs than some buried trauma that comes out in therapy in 30 years.

The end of the Sandwich Boardwalk

9. Easter is an interesting holiday. I don’t think I’ve gone to church on the holiday since I was a kid. For me, it was always all about the family celebration on the day. When we were little, way back in the 1980s, we’d have Easter egg hunts. These were always fun. My Nana’s house would see the eggs scattered around her yard. My sister Kate and cousin Ryane would have baskets, and I believe that we each either had a specific color egg we had to find, or they’d have our initials on them. Believe me, if it were just finders keepers, I’d have cleaned up. I remember one year, my Aunt Kelly and her then-husband Mark set up the most challenging egg hunt ever. There are photos of me scaling trees and crawling out onto branches to grab eggs. It was a different time back then. Just put the eggs anywhere, no matter how dangerous, we GenX kids were tough enough and didn’t care. However, when I think of Easter, the very first thing that comes to my mind is my Nana’s cheesy hash brown potatoes. She’d put them together every year, only on very special occasions. It began with one large pan of them when I was really young. As we kids grew up, and the popularity of those potatoes grew, it ended up being two monstrous pans. As my Nana got into her 80s, she commissioned my Uncle Bob to take over the recipe. It’s been at least 15 years since I’ve had those potatoes, but I can still see, smell, and taste them. It’s a childhood memory I hope I never lose.

Scaling the tree for an Easter egg

10. Food comas can sneak up on you. This year, for Easter at my mom’s, I filled up on pot roast and desserts slowly but steadily. I felt like things would be fine, and then suddenly my stomach was angry. All of the food was amazing, but I have a tendency to eat too much too fast on holidays. I had to fight to stay alert and engaged with everyone. Eventually, it got to be too much, and I had to say my goodbyes and head home. First of course, I had to stop at the beach in the rain to sit, relax, and enjoy a little time to myself. It wasn’t walking to the cranberry bog like we used to do after Easter at my Nana’s, but wandering along the beach as it rained had to do. I hope everyone who celebrates had a Happy Easter!

Initial Impressions 2.0 Blog #112: March Weather, Repeating Timelines, Cape Cod Adventure, etc.

1. It’s amazing how much warmer warm temperatures feel when coming out of a cold winter. This week, we touched 60 degrees on Cape Cod. If you had told me it was 75, I’d have believed you. Being stuck inside working all day, I was itching to get outside into the sun once the day was over. I had an important phone call to take, and I decided rather than sitting in my car, I’d hit up the famed Monday Runday track and do some walking while talking. It was almost perfect. The track had a few snowy patches that had not been hit by the sun, but otherwise it felt just like it did last time we did Monday Runday back in October. In all, I walked a little over 1.5 miles and burned around 200 calories. Not bad considering I could have sat on my ass in my car and burned nothing at all.


2. March is the most bipolar month there is in terms of weather. You can get days that are in the 60s and sunny, and within the same week, have temperatures hovering around freezing with the threat of snow. Obviously, that is what we got this week. I think growing up in New England has conditioned me to get out and fully enjoy the warm days of March since it can quickly go the other way. I think April is a bit like that as well, at least at the beginning of the month. It’s only when we get to around the first of May that we on Cape Cod can fully relax and enjoy spring without the looming threat of a secret frost or snowy day.


3. Incredibly, my story of the tough dealings with the editor of the short film I co-produced did not end last week. After agreeing to double the pay of the editor just to get the film finished, this guy decided to get greedy. The next day, he asked for more money again. He asked if I could get the donors for the When Henry Met Henry film to just cough up some more cash for his ‘expenses.’ Like what? We gave him instructions to use copyright-free music and find royalty-free b-roll footage. Not sure what his ‘expenses’ were. In the end, I set a hard line and said he’d get the money we agreed to for editing the film, or he’d get half if he sent me all of the raw footage and walked away. Not a bad deal. I don’t know if he thought I’d roll over at his attempts to hijack the film, but that didn’t happen. He ended up agreeing (yet again) to the money and to get the film done. I wasn’t a complete ass; I did give him an extension on the deadline until the end of March. I will say, it felt good to stand up to someone trying to screw me over. I might have to do it again sometime soon.


4. My niece Sylvie gave me a makeup case cell phone. It’s a cute pink plastic phone with different lip gloss inside. I began thinking of how I could use it in a video. I came up with a story of me being lost in the woods without my phone and remembering the phone she gave me, only to discover that it’s makeup. I went to a local conservation area with ideas for shots that I could then edit into a 2-3 minute funny horror video. Of course, shooting some scenes where I am scared and calling out for help would be best done with nobody around. I got some basic b-roll video as I walked the paths. Then I got set up for a shot of me wandering the woods while my phone was on a tripod, capturing the scene. Right on cue, came an older couple who appeared to be birdwatching. There I am, standing off in the woods, positioning my phone. They were curious, but I just said hello. Thankfully, I didn’t have to explain to them what I was doing. Shooting skits with my camcorder at 17 was cute and creative. Shooting skits, by myself, in the woods, at 48, might end up with a call to the nuthouse. 


5. One of my favorite things to do for my podcast is to craft unique alternate logos and cover art. I try to capture the nostalgic vibe of the 60s through the 90s while also keeping the basic layout of the logo. I made a pair of them in the past week. As you can see, they both have the classic, typical 70s avocado color palette. I went with two uniquely retro backgrounds. One was the faux wood paneling that I fondly remembered from my Nana’s house growing up. The other was one of the oddly paneled tiled kitchen floors. I believe we had this in one of our kitchens growing up. There is another tile setup that was super 80s, but I’m saving that one for a future podcast logo.




6. An interesting phenomenon that happens way more often than I think has to do with where I go for photography on Cape Cod. I will have an idea of a place I want to go shoot, and I’ll go there. No, that’s not the interesting part. What happens is that many times now I go to a place, and the next day I have photos of that same place in my social media memories. It’s like my subconscious takes me to the same places at the same time each year. It happened this week when I went to get some videos of the bridges at the Cape Cod Canal. The next morning, I was going through my Facebook memories, and there it was, a post filled with photos of the same bridges from 2016. I definitely don’t choose to visit the same places on the same days, but man, does it happen a lot.


7. On that photo trip I just mentioned, I came across a massive flock of Common Eiders, which are sea ducks that are usually black and white. They were hanging out in little crevices along the Cape Cod Canal as the tide was flowing out. When I say a massive flock, I’m talking a few hundred. They typically hang out in a cove at the western end of the canal across from Mass Maritime Academy. It was fascinating, and I found myself trying to get close-up video of these ducks. Naturally, they found me as a threat and would fly further down the canal. Once they’d realize I wasn’t trying to hurt them, they’d stop just far enough away. I kept walking toward them, filming them flying away and landing just enticingly close enough that I’d keep going. This game was repeated a few times. I ended up with several videos of duck wings slapping on the water. I guess it will be good for people who enjoy nature sounds and ASMR.



8. On this same one trip, I ended up with five or six great videos in probably half an hour. While filming a ship passing by, I noticed in the distance that the railroad bridge was lowered. It typically sits 135 feet above the water when raised. It gets lowered a few times a day for trains to pass over the canal. I saw it lowered and knew a train would pass by me in a few minutes since the railroad tracks run along the canal. I was at the Bourne Recreation Area, which sits directly under the Bourne Bridge. I had a minute or two to decide how I wanted to film the passing train. I wanted a cool perspective, but also didn’t want to risk damaging my phone or myself. I settled on filming from the platform where people could board the train. I set up my phone on a tripod in the perfect position and waited. I knew the train wasn’t stopping, so I didn’t have to worry about the conductor getting mad that I was faking them out like I was going to be a passenger. The train approached, blew its horn, and passed by. It rumbled with such force that the phone shook as it passed, maybe less than 10 feet away. The video was great except that I thought it was going to be a big half-mile-long train, but it was a little stubby one with maybe four cars. Oh well, I was lucky just to be there in that moment, so I’ll take it.


9. This week, for the first time probably since I was a kid, I had cream soda. Well, actually, diet cream soda, but still. Have you ever had something that you loved as a kid but got away from it? Foods, drinks, activities, maybe music? I can’t remember when I stopped drinking cream soda as a kid, but obviously, it happened at some point. I was at the store and walked past it, and wondered when the last time was that I had had it. Weird how something can be your favorite and then just not. I’m sure as a kid, I loved the sugar of the regular cream soda. I can’t do that anymore; it makes me feel terrible. That being said, the diet cream soda was good, so I’ll be making it a part of my drink rotation going forward. Who knows what the next thing from my youth will be that I bring back? My guess is something to do with a flannel shirt.


10. I constantly have to shake my head at the people who complain about a certain social media site from that site. Like, if you go on Twitter(X) and constantly mention how you hate it there, you know what you do? Delete your account and go somewhere else. It’s not hard. You didn’t sign a lifetime contract to remain miserable on a site you hate. You know how I know this? Because I deleted my Twitter account when I got sick of how much of a cesspool it was filled with toxic scum and bots. It’s the same with a job. Unless you’re under contract, you are not being forced to work somewhere you hate and are miserable. Just remember, you are not obligated to be on social media. I grew up in the 90s without it. If tomorrow all social media sites vanished, it would take a little while to get used to, but I’d be fine. It’s mostly just people who are so desperate for attention that they post how they hate whatever site they’re on for engagement farming.


11. Few things are more fun for me than exploring the lesser-known and hidden pathways of the Outer Cape in the offseason. Venturing out to Wellfleet and Truro in March allows you almost total freedom to go wherever and see whatever there is to see. I hiked through the downed branches to visit the Jenny Lind Tower located in the woods near the old North Truro Air Force Base. I wanted some video of the AFB, so I headed toward the chain link fence behind the tower that surrounded the base property. I thought I might be able to follow the fence back to my car. It was mostly true. I got some footage on my way, but also had to bushwhack through a lot of brush. I had a chance to slide under a gap in the fence to get onto the base property. After being sliced and diced by broken branches and thorns, though, I figured with my luck, I’d end up gutting myself sneaking under the fence. Despite it being March, I ended up with several small ticks on my pants. Thankfully, I noticed one and did a more thorough check. Those dang things are going to be a menace this summer.

12. Another adventure from the same trip was something on my ever-dwindling Cape Cod bucket list. Close to a beach in Truro, there is an FAA beacon on a hill. I am being intentionally vague about its whereabouts since I don’t want to get anyone in trouble if they go to seek it out. I ventured through a small but worn path that led up the hill and eventually to a clearing where the beacon stands. I had noticed the location on Google Maps and had wondered for years how to get there. I decided during this trip to wander the parking lot of the beach, looking for a path. Once I found it, I made my way uphill, making sure to stay low and as inconspicuous as I could. I made sure that when I emerged from the clearing, for as much footage as I got, I stayed far enough away. You don’t want to get too close, just in case cameras are rolling. Even if you just take photos from a distance, staying on the edge of the clearing is the wisest move. Getting to see this FAA beacon checks off one of the very few places I have yet to see on Cape Cod. The biggest one remaining is Monomoy Lighthouse in Chatham. We’ll see about making that happen.