Christopher Setterlund, In My Footsteps

Wednesday, August 19, 2026

In My Footsteps Podcast Episode 257: Super Nintendo's Debut, Legacy of the Original Woodstock, 1990s Celebrity Crushes(8-19-2026)

The original music festival. The follow-up to the king of video game consoles. Some favorite 1990s celebrity crushes.

Episode 257 has a batch of Gen-X nostalgia, hot and fresh out of the oven like Poppin' Fresh dough.

It starts with a look back at the original, and many say, greatest, music festival. Woodstock occurred this week in history in 1969 and changed not only music but the culture of a generation. However, it ended up being a success pulled from the jaws of failure. A larger-than-expected crowd, food shortages, bad weather, and more could have sunk the event before it happened. Instead, it helped make it one of the most important events in music history.

Now you're playing with power...super power. How do you follow up the most successful video game console ever made? If you are Nintendo, you take your time. 35 years ago this week, the 16-bit Super Nintendo made its debut in America. Sega Genesis had a two-year head start, so how would the SNES fare? Far better than they could have imagined.

How many of these celebrities adorned the walls of your bedroom? This week's Top 5 is all about the biggest 1990s celebrity crushes. Male, female, actors, musicians, it's all covered here.

Of course, there is a brand-new This Week in History and Time Capsule, featuring the ultimate bad-luck story of a person being struck by two consecutive foul balls at a baseball game.

To support me and the show, become a member on Patreon.

Or you can support my work and Buy Me A Coffee!

Helpful Links from this Episode

Listen to Episode 256 here

Monday, August 17, 2026

Initial Impressions 2.0 Blog #134: Overheated, Old Friends Reunion, Substitute Event, etc.

1. Who would have thought that walking over 10 miles in 100-degree heat would have some lingering effects on the body? As you might remember, in last week’s blog I did the walk I just mentioned while waiting for my car to get some work done. I slowly cooked myself over the course of a 3-hour walk. Now, over the weekend things seemed normal. I didn’t have anything to do, so I was sitting around relaxing. As soon as I got back to my day job and actually had to do things, I realized just how wiped out my body was from that walk. I was physically exhausted. If I could have laid down and slept on the floor of the gym, I would have. The best part is that I have to go get a little more work done on my car this week and very likely will do some sort of walk again. Don’t worry though, it won’t totally be like deja vu. It is supposed to be at least a few degrees cooler, with a lower heat index of around 85 instead of 101. I will still bring everything I need, but rather than walking 10 miles will probably go down the street to my friend’s bike shop and bother him until my car is finished.

2. With so many oars in the water when it comes to my life, it can be hard sometimes to know which ones will actually move my boat and which ones are merely decorative. I look at where I am putting my energy and effort and wonder what my return on investment truly is. I have so many projects I am working on. Podcasts, books, events to go along with those books, producing my first feature film, these are all important and satisfying. However, I guess the bottom line for me, and I am sure many of you reading, is to be financially secure. Yes, I have these projects I pour my heart and soul into, but at the end of the day I still need to work a day job to pay my bills to allow me to pursue these projects. In life, you don’t always get obvious answers. I wish it were in black and white which road to take, but it’s not. A lot of life is moving in the direction you think is right and hoping that there isn’t a cliff around the next corner. It is one part exhilarating and one part terrifying to have so many potential options lying ahead of me. Any one of these projects could suddenly blow up into a life-changing career. Then again, none of them could. There is no guarantee, and that is the risk I take. You only get one life. The best you can do is live it to the best of your ability, doing what you believe is right. Still, I wish there was a big flashing neon sign with an arrow pointing me in the right direction. Funny how, even as I near 50, I still look at my life as a puzzle I am still in the process of building. It’s the perfect storm of fear and freedom.

3. It’s funny how certain events remain vivid in your mind, but to others they are forgotten or at best a blur. One such event came up when chatting with my buddy Steve this week. During a trip over to Nantucket in 2014, we ended an amazing day with a stop at Cisco Brewers. I had finished up much of my research for a travel book I was writing about Nantucket, and it felt like the perfect cap on that chapter. We each got a beer. I got an IPA in a plastic cup. At this point, I had, I believe, an iPhone 6. I took a few photos of the bar and surroundings, including one that I thought was artsy, with the beer in the foreground and the Cisco sign above the bar in the background. Since Steve is a skilled photographer who taught me a lot of what I know, I wanted to show him the photo for his approval. I also wanted to actually drink my beer and not just leave it as an ornament on the bar. I turned around to him with the phone, but the hand with the beer hit the raised lip on the edge of the bar. The beer, in turn, spilled everywhere. I did manage to save maybe half of it, but it was a hugely embarrassing moment. People around must have thought I was already ‘three sheets to the wind’ as my Nana used to say. I believe Steve said the photo was good, possibly to make me feel better. The rest of the time at Cisco went off without incident. It still ended up being a great day, but going full circle, that moment with the beer Steve has no recollection of. I told him I think I stored it as trauma, which is why I remember it in vivid detail.

The infamous photo in question

4. I mentioned earlier about all of the projects I have going on. There can be a sense of uncertainty over the path I am currently on. Obviously, there are no guarantees, and anything worth having is worth risking something for. I do often try to look for subtle signs or hints that I am on the right path. I got a good one this week. While driving to work on a beautiful morning, I opened all of my windows and my moonroof to get as much of the sunlight in. I was on the road when, out of nowhere, a ladybug came in through my roof and landed on my right arm. It was surprising, to say the least. I extended my right arm out, and the bug sat there for several seconds while I drove. You can believe whatever you choose, but I know that in many cultures ladybugs are seen as signs of good luck, wealth, and protection. Just as quickly and randomly as it landed on me, it was gone again. If it had only lasted a minute longer, I would have been in a parking lot and could have gotten a photo. Oh well, it made me feel a little more secure about the road I am on.

5. This week I had an event that could have easily gone sideways. The Cape Cod Maritime Museum in Hyannis reached out to me last week. They had an event Thursday of this week, and their speakers had dropped out. They said I came highly recommended and asked if I could step in. I have learned that when it comes to opportunities, you say yes and figure things out later, so that’s what I did. I had one week to craft a totally new presentation. It ended up being what it was like to have a summer vacation on Cape Cod in 1926, a century ago. There was a lot of research and hours spent putting together a suitable presentation and copious notes. Despite being really happy with my work, I knew that there could still be issues. People had ordered tickets for a certain event. What if they didn’t want to keep their tickets to see me? I was cautiously optimistic but still keeping in mind that it might not be as good as I’d hoped. Boy was I wrong. Not only did people keep their tickets, but the event was sold out, with people waiting on standby just in case seats opened. 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 a podium. In the end, the event turned out to be one of the best I’ve ever been a part of. It went so well that the staff is already setting up a return event for January. I left the museum feeling grateful, validated, and a bit overwhelmed at the support I got.

6. This week was also the second half of the exhaust repairs on my car. For those who didn’t read last week’s blog, I brought my car in to get the loud noises of my exhaust fixed. It turned out there were a lot of leaks and weakened pipes and joints in the exhaust system, thanks to New England winters. It took six hours before I got my car, and even then I was told there was more that needed to be done. Technically, it might have been finished last week, but there was a chance that it might not have been finished by closing time. If so, I would have had to leave my car there over the weekend, which wasn’t going to work. So here we were at part two, deja vu. Again, I dropped the car off and started a long walk on the bike trail. This week the weather was a little cooler and a lot less humid. It made the 9.5 miles I walked feel like a breeze compared to cooking myself over 10 miles last week. It didn’t take as long for my car to be finished. When I got back to the mechanic, he started going over new things that needed to be fixed when they started trying to fix other exhaust issues. In my mind, the dollar amount kept on climbing. My wallet was whining like a scared dog in my pocket. Then I got the bill. After all of the things they did to repair my failing exhaust, it was still several hundred dollars less than I anticipated. My stress level dropped, and I was once again thrilled with the folks at Ormon Automotive in Harwich. I will never bring any car anywhere else for repairs. They are always thorough, fair, and trustworthy. If you find a mechanic where you feel respected and taken care of, you don’t ever let that go. One thing to know, though, their sparkling reputation means that you need to call a week or so ahead to get your vehicle in. Just a heads up.

7. It is always a blessing to get to see old friends of more than 35 years. This week I was lucky enough to not just see one, but three. First was Barry, who I’ve known for forty years. I hadn’t seen him in person in close to three years. His wife, Rachel, is an accomplished author and someone whose dedication to the grind I really respect. She was part of a festival a few towns over, and I was able to go and hang out under their tent for a few hours. It was a fun mix of catching up on life but also chatting and brainstorming ideas as far as promoting and marketing our work. Anytime I can spend more than a few moments with Barry, it’s like the perfect hit of dopamine. It’s all of my beloved childhood memories rushing back. But it’s also a shot of inspiration when looking toward the future. It’s funny because it always seems like we can catch up pretty quickly, but we also both end up admitting to needing to catch up more often. Each time I feel like we’ll actually follow up on that declaration. We’ll see if we do this time.

8. Second was a meeting nearly 35 years in the making. I have known Tim and Hasan since 1989. I actually met them both within weeks of each other. Despite my having seen each of them several times in the last few years, it had been since 8th grade that the three of us were in the same place at the same time. We met by the pool at one of Tim’s motels on a perfect summer afternoon. It was as if time had just skipped from 1992 to that moment and we were right back to being teens. Hasan’s son Elijah, who just turned ten, was a fun ball of energy and has been raised so well by his dad, but I am not surprised. We all sat around and talked about old times, people we hadn’t seen in ages, and a lot about life as guys creeping toward fifty. It was the first time I’d swum in a pool in years. I loved every second of it and didn’t want it to end, but Elijah was getting hungry, so that was the cue. I hope to see Tim once more before he closes up the motels and heads back south. We all did make very early plans for next summer with the possibility of inviting more people. I truly am blessed and lucky for the friends I’ve made in my life.

A summer afternoon by a pool is always good.

9. The show du jour this week for me from Netflix is The Four Seasons. I took a bit of a break from the suspense, supernatural, scarier shows that have made up the majority of my viewing habits. This is a comedy-drama, dramedy? It features Tina Fey, Steve Carell, and Will Forte, among others, as middle-aged couples and their friendships and how they evolve. The show will have a pair of episodes as a season, ie: spring, and when each of the four seasons is done, that’s a season of the show. So far, there are two seasons with eight episodes in each. I love the humor that is also mixed with real-life issues that anyone can relate to. For me, the standout of the show, though, is Colman Domingo, who cracked me up with virtually everything he said. I only knew him from Fear the Walking Dead, so to see him as a funny, sassy, smart-ass gay man made the show even funnier. The best part is that it got picked up for a third season. The only downside is having to wait until some time next year to watch it. Don’t worry though, I have already jumped back into my typical psychological and suspenseful stuff as I just began Glitch. More on that when I finish it.

10. When I was at my peak as a distance runner ten years ago, I had a very low resting heart rate. According to the American Heart Association, the average resting heart rate is somewhere between 60 and 100 beats per minute. 100 beats per minute is in the average zone? That sounds crazy to me. When I was distance training, though, my resting heart rate was routinely right around 40 bpm. When becoming a personal trainer, I remember doing heart rate readings with a partner. Mine popped up at somewhere in the low 40s, and my partner had never seen a heart rate that low and assumed something was wrong with the heart rate monitor. Then I said I was a marathon runner, and it all made sense. Years passed; hip issues made distance running, and sometimes running in general, a memory. My resting heart rate, while still good, in the high 50’s, was nowhere near what it was at my peak. Flash forward to this summer. With better training habits to deal with my hip, I have been able to slowly increase my running distances. As you already saw, I did a 9.5-mile walk this week, and a 10-mile walk last week in the heat. Amazingly, the last six weeks or so of exercise has done wonders for my resting heart rate. When just sitting and watching something on TV, I happened to check my Fitbit. It showed my heart rate at 42 bpm. That’s right in line with my peak as a distance runner. The only thing is I am not a distance runner. In fact, I typically only run a half-mile or so before stopping to do some walking. So what’s up? I think that my body is just remembering how it used to be, and getting back to that lower resting heart rate is muscle memory. My goal now is to continue increasing my running to see if I can drop that resting heart rate into the 30’s, safely, of course.

Sunset at Englewood Beach in West Yarmouth, MA

Saturday, August 15, 2026

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.

Thursday, August 13, 2026

Wait, Did I Just Almost Get Robbed?: A 1990s Summertime Tale

Wait, did I just almost get robbed?

That was the thought that was swirling through my head after one of the strangest encounters of my teenage years. The answer was, maybe? I guess?

For this story, we need to take a trip back to the good old days of the 1990s. The summer of 1995, to be more specific. It was nearing the end of the summer, at least the part of the summer where kids were out of school.

I was seventeen years old and getting ready to begin my senior year of high school. Being that it was the 90s, and I was a nice, responsible young man, I had already been working during the summers for the last five years.

Granted, I wasn’t raking in loads of cash as a dishwasher and food prep boy, but it was good enough that I was looking to secure a little bit of a status symbol. No, it wasn’t a car, or some fancy sneakers, or anything like that. What I wanted was something different. I wanted something to show off my minuscule financial wealth to my friends. I wanted an ATM card.

ATM cards, debit cards, whatever you want to call them, had been popular since the 1980s. Before then, you had to go inside the bank and write a slip and go to a teller to withdraw money.

Being an introvert, having a way to get money from my bank account without having to talk to anyone was a dream come true. The bank I had my account through was Cape Cod Bank & Trust. They went out of business after being bought in a merger in 2004, to show how old I am.

Typically if I was out riding bikes with my friends, I’d stop at a CCB&T ATM so I wouldn’t incur a ridiculous user fee. However, for this story I would have had to have gone in the opposite direction to where I wanted to go to find a branch. I decided the dollar surcharge, which I believe is what it was at the time, was worth it.

It was later in August. The sun was setting around 7:30pm on Cape Cod. I wanted to get some money from the ATM and then hit up the nearest convenience store for some surely healthy snacks. It was probably some bottles of Jolt Cola to fuel late-night outdoor adventures.

My friend Rob came along. It was getting close to dusk. We had been having fun messing around after dinner, so we started off from my house later than we should have. Our neighborhood was always quiet, so we rode right down the middle of the road as the streetlights began popping on over our heads.

At this time in 1995, the nearest ATM I knew of was a branch of Cape Cod 5 located on the outer edge of a shopping plaza near a highway entrance. The ride to that ATM was roughly 1.5 miles. We were in the parking lot in a little over ten minutes.

The bank in question.

Rob and I laid our bikes in the grass. This ATM was an indoor one. I had to slide my card into a reader to get the door to open after hours. Being teenage boys, neither of us looked around as we did this.

I slid my card through; the door beeped, and we both entered. I was laughing at something funny that Rob had said. I wish I could remember what it was. Suddenly the laughter was cut short by banging on the door.

We both spun around, and standing at the glass door was a man. It was hard to tell how old he was, as the light was brighter inside the bank than outside, so he was silhouetted. What was for sure was he was trying to get in.

He banged on the door again, and this time he began shouting.

“Access the door!” He screamed. Rob and I were both confused and scared. I believe one of us shouted, ‘What?’ This only angered this guy more. “Access the door!” The man shouted again.

This was 1995. Neither Rob nor I had cell phones. There were payphones nearby, but this would have meant having to go outside and past this stranger who was furiously trying to get inside with us.

We needed one of these inside the bank.

Looking back, I don’t know what the best course of action would have been. Fear took over a little, and I foolishly opened the bank door to let this person in.

Why was he there? Because he believed that we were thieves who had somehow stolen someone’s ATM card and were now going to use it to steal their money.

How do I know that? Because he said as much as he angrily demanded that I give him my card. That was a bridge too far. I refused and told him it was mine as he accused me of being a thief.

This man had to be over fifty. I have no idea where he had been or what led him to think that pursuing a pair of teenage boys into a bank after hours was a good idea, but it was irrelevant at that point. We were trapped as he stood looming over us.

“I’m going to watch you as you make this transaction,” the angry man said. I think he thought he was calling my bluff. Rob stayed facing the man while I turned my back. I punched in my code, hiding it from the man.

I believe I withdrew ten dollars. The machine spat out the cash. I quickly grabbed it and stuffed it into my wallet along with my card again. At this point I turned around and faced the man.

Seeing that it was indeed my ATM card and that we weren’t thieves, he muttered ‘ok’ or something dumb before getting out of there as fast as he could. He must have had an epiphany of how the whole situation looked and knew he had screwed up.

Rob and I waited a minute or two before stepping out into the darkness. It was a beautiful, if humid, night on Cape Cod. We were thrilled that the lunatic hadn’t done any damage to, or stolen, our bikes.

I can’t remember what exactly we said to each other after, but I am sure it was something along the lines of ‘what the hell just happened?’ We had gone to grab a little cash for a snack run and ended up in the middle of a scene from America’s Most Wanted.

Teenagers are resilient though. We hadn’t been hurt. We hadn’t been robbed. So we chalked it up to some idiot thinking he was going to be a hero but ended up being a complete jackass.

We still did our snack run. We returned to my house, and there were a few other kids around. In the 1990s and in that neighborhood, darkness didn’t mean everyone went inside. Rob and I dropped our bikes in the wood chips at the very edge of the front yard near the quiet street.

Loads of bikes in the front yard were common in the 90s

The retelling of our story likely began with ‘you won’t believe what happened.’ I remember telling the story to at least one of my sisters, maybe one of Rob’s brothers and my brother, and also Mikey, who was down visiting Cape Cod during weekends in the summer as he did back then.

As the years go by and some details, like what we got at the convenience store after, get hazy, I still firmly remember the sound of the banging on the glass door and that guy shouting for us to ‘access the door.’

The other kids looked at us in shock and awe. We had survived a brush with death, or at least we made it sound like we did. It was certainly not an average adventure that I was used to on Cape Cod.

I can’t remember when I told my mother about what had happened. I know that when Rob told his mother, she was livid. She wanted to go to Cape Cod 5 the next business day and ask them to check the security footage to see the guy who had caused this trouble. Nothing came of it, though.

It has been thirty-one years since a man shouted at me to access the door of a dark and relatively isolated ATM. I have never had an experience like that again. I will say that I didn’t go back to that Cape Cod 5 ATM for any withdrawals for many years. It was like I expected that weirdo to be lurking in the bushes waiting for me to come back.

For as much as Rob and I made jokes about that guy after the fact, there is no denying that it was a scary situation while it was happening. Until he vanished into the night, there was no telling how things were going to end.

He could have been an addict trying to get some cash for drugs. He could have had a gun, or a knife. He could have been a whack job looking to get his rocks off by assaulting teenage boys. These were all real possibilities as we stood face to face with an angry older stranger.

Luckily it never got to that. I stupidly accessed the door, and then he watched ominously while I used my ATM card to withdraw some of the money I had earned by working. Then he scurried away after realizing what a stupid mistake he had made.

I do wonder if we had tried, if Rob and I could have beat the hell out of him. It would have been the ultimate irony. This guy thinks he’s going to foil some thieving kids like he’s a Scooby-Doo villain, but we end up not only not being thieves but then whopping his ass.

That Cape Cod 5 location is still in business, and on the off chance I go by there, I can still hear ‘access the door’ ringing in my ears. I wonder what ever happened to that guy? Did he ever tell the story to someone? He probably didn’t. Or if he did, in his version, he thwarted a pair of giant meathead guys trying to rob a little old lady.

I am so blessed and lucky to have grown up when I did. There really will never be another time like the 1990s. It was the last decade where you weren’t bound by technology. When you spent summer outside until the streetlights came on, and sometimes even after.

It was a time I wish I could go back to. A time that I wouldn’t trade for anything. Even if every now and then you had to deal with creepy older guys looking to chaperone your bank visit. But hey, that’s a fair trade for all of the good stuff.

The 90s on Cape Cod were something else.

Wednesday, August 12, 2026

In My Footsteps Podcast Episode 256: One Crazy Summer & Cape Cod, Creation of the Cell Phone, Movies Filmed on Cape Cod & the Islands(8-12-2026)

The Cape Cod time capsule that is One Crazy Summer. Some of the movies shot on the Cape and Islands. The creation of the cellular telephone.

Episode 256 is a bit of a throwback for the podcast as it is loaded with Cape Cod topics.

We start by going back 40 years ago this week. One Crazy Summer is among the best mindlessly fun comedies of the 1980s. It wasn't a major box office or critical hit, but it did have one thing that made it special, and that was a deep connection to Cape Cod. Watching it today is like opening up an old photo album for Cape Codders who grew up during that time. We celebrate the 40th anniversary of One Crazy Summer this week.

Today it can feel as though cell phone technology has been around forever. In some ways that is true, but in other ways it's still relatively new. We go way back to the beginning and trace the evolution of cellular telephone technology. From World War II to Y2K and all of the bumps and detours, we look at just how cell phones became the indispensable part of life that they are today.

Cape Cod dominates this week's Top 5. We look at some of the films that were shot on Cape Cod or the islands of Nantucket and Martha's Vineyard. There are a few obvious ones, and some that might surprise you. We'll go over them all, good, bad, and very bad.

As always, there is a brand-new This Week In History and Time Capsule, looking at the creation of the Leaning Tower of Pisa in Italy.