An Inside Look

A Look Back at Popular Baby Names

2012-01-16T08:56:00.004-05:00

This column originally appeared in The Sun Chronicle on Monday, January 16, 2011,

In about two months, my youngest son Nate and his wife Melissa are going to have a baby. This much-awaited child will be my second grandchild, and my first granddaughter. And she will have a name. That is as much information as I can glean or am allowed to reveal about the situation at the moment.

You see, my son and daughter-in-law tend to be private people. In fact, that's a bit like saying the CIA likes to keep things quiet. Unlike some members of our family, they do not publicize nearly every aspect of their lives in one medium or the other. I know, it's strange - but I hear some people are like that.

They actually have discussed with us some of the first names under consideration. There is nothing firm, and no clear-cut favorite. I would share them with you good readers, but I am convinced a lightning bolt originating from the Baltimore area would immediately descend upon me and wreak havoc and destruction.

But the whole thing got me thinking about baby names. I did some research and looked at the most popular names from my year of birth (yes, they did keep stone tablet records back then) as well as the era when my kids were born. Then I added 2008 when my grandson (did I mention his name is William?) arrived, as well as the most popular monikers of 2011.

In 1956 when I was born, the three most popular names for each sex were Michael, James and Robert - along with Mary, Debra and Linda. William was a lofty 6th that year. I was quite pleased to find it had even been in the top 10.

When my son was born in 1979, Michael was still the most popular boys name followed by Christopher and Jason. On the female side there had been a complete change with Jennifer, Melissa, and Amanda now topping the charts. When son Nate arrived in 1981, Jennifer was still number one with Jessica now in second just ahead of Amanda. Michael was still king on the male side, followed now by Christopher and Matthew. William had inexplicably and unfairly been reduced to 15th place. By the time grandson William made his triumphant appearance in 2008, that noblest of names had rebounded to 8th place. Jacob was now number one, followed by the incredibly resilient Michael and newcomer Ethan. The distaff side had been completely reshuffled, with Emma, Isabella and Emily now leading the pack. And new names were appearing high on the list, such as Jayden, Aiden, Chloe and Mia.

Finally, a check on the year just ended shows Aiden, Jackson, and Mason as the three most popular boy's names. Sophia, Emma, and Isabella are now the top three girl's names. And in the unkindest cut of all, William has been relegated to 22nd place. I have already demanded a recount.

Ahead of William on the male side are names such as Brayden, Caden, and Jayden. Is rhyming now required to be in the top 20? Noah is number nine, and with all due respect to my cousin Noah - that name is 13 spots ahead of William? Something is clearly wrong here. Heck, even Caleb was at number 11.

But of course, my concentration needs to be on the female names. After all, this is my little princess who is on her way to join the family. Not that I have any say in naming her, nor should I. But I still feel a responsibility to at least be conversant in the names of the day. You never know, I could be asked for my opinion. For a man married nearly 35 years, that is a rare occurrence. You have to be ready.

I'm fairly confident whatever name our kids pick for this special child will not be one of the more out-there names. To the best of my knowledge, they did not have to revise their list when "Blue Ivy" was used by Beyonce and Jay Z. My son has told me the only thing I can be absolutely certain about is that the new baby will not, under any circumstances, be named William.

I guess I'll just have to learn to live with that.

Bill Gouveia is a local columnist, proud grandfather, and a supporter of the name William. He can be reached at aninsidelook@aol.com.

Shooting Shows Need to Revise Hunting Laws

2012-01-13T17:05:00.002-05:00

The column below originally appeared in The Sun Chronicle on Friday, January 13, 2012.

When off-duty state trooper John Bergeron of Norton went hunting in the woods not far from his home on the last day of 2011, he had no idea his life was going to change forever in one awful moment - along with the life of Cheryl Blair. And now residents of Norton and other semi-rural communities are wondering how safe it is to venture far from their backyards.

Just as hunting season was coming to an end, Bergeron fired his weapon and struck Blair, a 66-year-old grandmother out walking her two dogs in a wooded area in her neighborhood. As this is written, she remains hospitalized with a bullet wound to her body and is fighting infection and complications. She has undergone at least two surgeries and her condition remains serious.

Bergeron called 911 for help, and stayed with the shooting victim until paramedics arrived. He told police he thought he had fired at a deer. He was remorseful during the 911 call and apologized profusely to the wounded woman while on the phone.

Local police investigated along with Environmental Police. Norton police were quick to declare it an accident and announce there would be no charges filed - too quick for some, who wondered if the state trooper was receiving preferential treatment. Norton police have said no such treatment was given. The Environmental Police investigation is still under way at press time.

There can be little doubt this was an accident, a case of shooting at the wrong target without any intent to cause harm to another human being. But should the shooter face charges of some kind? Do hunting regulations in Massachusetts need to be revised for safety reasons? Is it reasonable to expect a state trooper, who carries a gun as part of his job, to exercise better judgment than Bergeron did in this case?

The legal issue is certainly complex and requires a careful review and understanding of the law. But the facts here cry out for some type of corrective action. A grandmother walking her dogs near her own home was shot by a trained trooper who by his own admission mistook his target. That simply cannot be chalked up as an unfortunate accident and forgotten.

I am not a hunter, nor a "gun person." But I understand and appreciate the right of hunters to legally and responsibly practice this ancient art, even if I am not a fan. I also appreciate the right to bear arms, although I do not believe it extends as far as many others do.

But when you hunt in the local woods you assume a grave responsibility. You simply cannot discharge your weapon unless and until you are 100 percent certain of your target. You need to know you are shooting at a deer and not a golden retriever. And yes, that can be tricky and difficult. But when you are a licensed hunter and step into the woods with a dangerous weapon, you accept that burden.

There is also a responsibility to avoid walking in hunting areas without reflective clothing. But seriously - should we all be afraid to walk more than 500 feet from our homes at the risk of being shot? Is being able to hunt that close to dwellings so important that we risk the lives of people like Cheryl Blair?

I grew up in Norton when kids often played in the woods, and hearing gunshots was not unusual in the fall and winter. I live in a wooded section of Norton now, and my kids grew up knowing to be careful of wandering too far. But today, Norton is not a small country town. It is a community with 20,000 people jammed into 27 square miles. And like it or not - things have to change.

It is fair to say hunters have fewer places to go now than in the past. It is also a fact the overwhelming majority of them practice their hobby safely. This incident appears to be the result of a bad hunter, not an indictment of hunting itself. Yet the rules for all hunters may have to change.

If that results in even one fewer grandmother getting shot, I'm all for it.

Bill Gouveia is a local columnist and a lifelong resident of Norton. He can be reached at aninsidelook@aol.com.

The Great Ironic Foxboro Casino Debate

2012-01-02T15:54:00.001-05:00

This column originally appeared in the Sun Chronicle on Monday, January 2, 2012

As part of the Great Casino Debate, Foxboro is involved in a serious discussion concerning free speech. Ironically, folks are clamoring to be heard on the topic of denying others the right to be heard. Alas, no one ever said irony was fair.

At a selectmen’s meeting last week, many sought to speak and express their opposition to a resort casino suggested for near Gillette Stadium. They wished to publicly state their opposition to allowing any such proposal to be put on the ballot for all Foxboro voters to decide. They urged selectmen to not allow or engage in any discussion with the proposers on the topic.

Selectmen initially allowed ten minutes for public comments, but expanded that to almost an hour when many wished to speak. One woman opposed to the casino was told time had expired and the meeting was moving on. She angrily demanded the right to be heard. Many in the crowd chanted “Let her speak!” She went on to urge the casino proponents be given no consideration, and received a loud ovation.

Perhaps the irony of people invoking their right to speak in an effort to prevent others from being heard was lost on some there. Hopefully it will become clearer as the heat of that moment slowly dissipates. But that might be unlikely, given the recent penchant for explaining away bad behavior in Foxboro.

The casino issue has been blamed for bringing out the worst in some citizens on both sides. Many have stated the very concept is tearing the community apart and pitting friends and neighbors against each other. There have been accusations of sign stealing and vandalism. Town meetings have been interrupted by shouting citizens seeking to influence town officials and others. All this in peaceful Foxboro, described almost universally as a warm, friendly community.

Foxboro is indeed a great town, full of good people. Those residents are too good to use this issue or any other as an excuse for intolerance and ignorance. Issues don’t behave poorly – people do. It is time everyone in Foxboro – on all sides - started assuming responsibility for their own actions rather than passing them off as the inevitable result of a complicated and emotional debate.

Most residents of Foxboro are doing just that. They are allowing the system to work as intended, supplying their input and opinions when and where they deem it necessary and proper, and respecting their fellow citizens. It is a shame the actions of a vocal few are unfairly casting the community in a bad light.

Those proposing the casino (and it does no good to call it a “resort destination”, it is still a casino) must be sensitive to the feelings of the Foxboro residents. This matter strikes right to the heart and character of a community, or at least people’s perception of those things. It is difficult to walk into town and propose something along the scale of this project without raising great fear and trepidation.

When you do polling, or lobby officials, or put a video on local cable access television – all perfectly legitimate and proper things to do – you have to know some will treat it as though you are dictating rather than appealing. You are going to be the bad guys in this little morality play, and there is little you can do to change that perception.

But having a difficult decision placed before them is not an excuse for the behavior some in Foxboro have exhibited. Granted, the casino is a political topic and will eventually need a political solution. But attacking the integrity of those who present the concept and town officials who support listening to them, intimidating officials with none-too-subtle threats of political retribution, and acting like spoiled three-year-olds at public meetings is not the way to go. Although in truth, it does seem to have been politically effective thus far. Is that really what matters most?.

Communities sometimes have to make tough decisions. Those decisions should be informed ones, made after full and careful consideration. If individuals on either side of this contentious debate continue to cross the line with their behavior, the blame is on them – not the issue at hand. A little less irony, a little more reason…

Bill Gouveia is a local columnist and a longtime area town official. He can be reached at aninsidelook@aol.com.

Thank a Veteran in your Town Today

2011-11-11T09:37:00.001-05:00

This column originally appeared in The Sun Chronicle on November 11, 2011.

Today is Veteran’s Day. And each and every one of us should go out of our way today to personally say “thank you” to a veteran we know in our community.

The public perception of veterans seems to vary from generation to generation. As our wars change, so has how we look at the men and women who fight them. But the courage, the dedication, and the personal sacrifice these brave soldiers exhibit is timeless. Our appreciation of it must be also.

The two World Wars this country fought were battles for global supremacy. We weren’t just attacked, we were threatened with extinction. Most existing nations were involved. It was country against country, government against government, military against military. The other side wore uniforms, we knew who they were. We had a clear goal and purpose.

Then things changed. We sent troops to Korea for a “police action”. My father and others went to a country half a world away because they were having a civil war. Suddenly we were fighting but not trying to win. We were asking our armed forces to protect but not attack, to defend but not offend. Victory became more of a concept than a clearly achievable objective.

Then came Vietnam, and we lost our national focus. We were embroiled in a war to stop Communism in a country few here at the time even recognized. We sent thousands of young people to die in the jungle for a “cause” that a growing percentage did not believe in or respect. And for the first time in our history, we began to blame the soldiers for the unpopular war. We took out our frustration on them.

When the Vietnam War ended, we did not win. There was no joyous celebration like there was for WWII. We did not welcome the veterans back with open arms, we merely brought them home and sent them off to fend for themselves. As a nation we were a bit embarrassed, and these honorable soldiers were unfairly and wrongly seen as a symbol of our failure.

Then came the Gulf conflicts, more undeclared wars in nations far away. They were precipitated by terrorist attacks against us, the attack in 2001 being on our soil and shaking us to our core. But this was not country against country. The other side did not wear uniforms and once again the goals and objectives for our gallant soldiers were vague and unclear. We were fighting a very real terrorist threat, but unsure just who it was we were blaming and chasing.

World War II lasted about five years. It has now been nearly a decade since we sent troops into Afghanistan and Iraq. Our wars are getting longer and more difficult, and we are expecting and demanding more from our personnel. We are extending terms of service, keeping citizen/soldiers away from their families for increasing periods of time. We are subjecting them to horrors unimagined by their predecessors with the awful yet effective technology and power we possess today.

Yet through it all, one thing has not changed. The American soldier remains the most effective, committed and reliable weapon ever to walk the face of the earth. That is not because they have superpowers or maniacal devotion to cause or can bring about mass destruction with a single keystroke or radio call. It is because those soldiers have managed to keep in perspective their duty to their country, a country that isn’t always clear about its duty back to them.

Get out into your city or town today. Talk to the folks you see and know in the coffee shops, stores and town halls. Make a point of thanking them again for their service, be it from 1944 or 2011. Tell them you appreciate all they did, even if it was long ago. Seek them out, make the effort. It pales in comparison to the efforts they have made for all of us.

I never served in the military, so I have no real idea of the sacrifice of those who did. But I know my family is safer today because of them, and that alone is reason to extend them my never-ending gratitude. Happy Veterans Day.

Bill Gouveia is a local columnist and a grateful American. He can be reached at aninsidelook@aol.com.
This column

The Nursing Home Experience

2010-11-08T11:04:00.002-05:00

This column originally appeared in the Sun Chronicle on Saturday, November 6, 2010.

AN INSIDE LOOK
By Bill Gouveia

Over the past few weeks my family has had the responsibility of placing a loved one into a nursing home facility. While an unavoidable part of life for many, it is also heartbreaking and patience-trying.

My step-dad is almost 82 years old, and his health has taken a turn for the worse recently. A widower, he simply could not continue to stay in the assisted living facility he called home for the last year. So my brother and I began the long journey into the federal and state bureaucratic mess most face when this life phase comes along.

The first step was locating a facility that had room for him and that we believed provided an appropriate level of care. Neither of us has much experience in such matters, and it certainly opened our eyes. I don’t care how good the nursing home you find is, it is still a nursing home. Unless you are independently wealthy and can afford expensive private care, you wind up settling in some way for less than you would have hoped.

When we found a good facility with an opening, we began to wade into the paperwork that can quickly overwhelm the average person. There are applications to fill out for various state and federal agencies, financial information to be gathered and submitted, and long and tedious phone calls to be made. Medicare and the related insurances are not among the easier things to understand in this world.

But that is nothing compared to what the poor person going into the facility must endure. I have come to the conclusion there simply is no way to explain to an elderly man or woman you love why you are leaving them in a place they do not want to be. You can have all the facts on your side, be secure in the knowledge you are making the only good decision available – and still feel as if you are betraying the trust placed in you.

Forget what it does to you, the guilt and the sorrow and heartache of leaving your family member with strangers for what will be the rest of his/her life. What it does to the elderly person himself/herself is what you worry about. The desperation and pain in their eyes the first time they beg you to “go home” is exceeded only by the same look the many subsequent times they ask.

You leave them knowing they will spend most of their hours alone with their thoughts. You leave them knowing the staff will treat them well, but that they cannot respond instantly every time they are summonsed. You pray they know you love them, and would not do this unless it was necessary.

You know in your head and in your heart you have done the best you can for him/her. Yet you constantly question yourself, your judgment, and whether or not you could have and should have done more. Your force yourself to channel the guilt that wracks you into energy that propels you. You remind yourself the person you love depends on your ability to do the job you have been entrusted with and accepted.

You also remember this does not have to be a totally negative experience. You think of the other families you have met who fondly attend to their loved one, and you look to the example of the sweet and independent residents you have met in the facility you chose.

At the same time, you remember the poor lost souls who have no one to visit, no one to bring them shakes and sandwiches, no one to advocate on their behalf and protect their interests. And you are glad you could be there for your family member and provide some assurance and protection. You realize in the end that is their greatest comfort in their darkest hours.

And you gaze into the future and see yourself. You know you should save more money. You worry about burdening your own children or family in the future. And the chill you feel running down your spine is because you see yourself in that bed someday, begging family to “take me home”.

And you pray you will handle it with dignity.

Bill Gouveia is a local columnist and can be reached at aninsidelook@aol.com.

That's My Boy!

2010-10-28T11:35:00.003-04:00

As a proud father, I have to pass along this video of my son Aaron at what I believe to be one of his very finest moments. If you read the post prior to this, you know about the situation. Here he confronts abortion protesters who yelled awful things at Aaron and his wife as they went into a medical facility for the worst day of their lives:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jEFWDYB0rWo

This has now received over one-half MILLION hits on Youtube!

I am very - VERY - proud of my son and his wife!

The Grandchild I Never Knew

2010-07-30T10:32:00.000-04:00

Abortion – it’s an ugly term. It has a deservedly harsh connotation to it, conveying an untimely ending and something gone horribly wrong.

My son and daughter-in-law had to make a decision to terminate their pregnancy recently, a pregnancy nearly four months along. They chose to do it, although in reality there was no choice. But it was still incredibly difficult.

Their baby – my grandchild – had a rare and fatal congenital birth defect called Sirenomelia, otherwise known as Mermaid Syndrome. Due to a vascular malfunction, the baby’s legs were fused together. The baby had no bladder, no kidneys, and no chance of surviving. The defect occurs once in about every 100,000 births.

The pain this caused my son and his wife, who very much wanted this second child, is indescribable. You cannot possibly fathom the depths of their despair unless you have been in a similar position. And while nowhere near as bad, the pain of having to watch our children go through this is something my wife and I pray we never have to experience again.

Our kids handled their situation with all the class, dignity and responsibility human beings can be expected to muster. We are so proud, even as our hearts break for them. Their strength and devotion to one another and their two-year-old son is the stuff of legends.

But their ordeal was made even more unnecessarily awful by the politics and social controversy surrounding the abortion issue. On one of the worst days of their lives, they became victims again – this time at the hands of those trying to do God’s work while in fact doing just the opposite.

Although my daughter-in-law was treated at a major Boston hospital, the time-sensitive nature of the procedure necessitated it be done at an affiliated establishment. After she and my son mustered the necessary courage and emotional strength to get where they had to go, they were met by something they had not considered in their grief – abortion protestors.

Two women were picketing outside the establishment, carrying signs and “communicating” with women walking in the door. One carried a sign of religious symbolism. As my son and his wife tried to enter the building where they would lose the baby they already loved so much, they were approached by the women.

“You’re killing your unborn baby!’ was the remark they would remember most as they walked past. They were both furious and devastated, but held their tempers and concentrated on what needed to be done. But once my daughter-in-law was in surgery, my son decided to take on the protestors.

In a calm but firm tone, he told them of his wife’s condition. How they had accosted her at the most vulnerable point in her life. How they had hurled accusations when they had no idea of the circumstances. How they claimed to be protecting, yet seemed more intent on hurting. And better yet, he recorded the entire conversation on his cell phone and posted it on his internet blog.

These particular protestors care about the unborn, but apparently are not concerned with those who have already come into the world. They made no attempt to discover the circumstances and just assumed this was a couple ending an unwanted pregnancy. To them, my kids were simply collateral damage in an ongoing war – the price to be paid for later success.

This column is not about a woman’s right to choose, although I have my own opinions on that matter. It is about the culture of hatred and disrespect that people today foster when they single-mindedly focus on one goal to the exclusion of nearly all else. It is about allowing the end to justify the means.

I am so proud of my son, and perhaps even more proud of his wife. At a time of great personal turmoil, they did not just retreat inside their own grief – though no one would have blamed them.

Rather, they cared enough to take the time to explain to these people how their actions can destroy others. How their words can scar forever. How nothing is ever as clear or as simple as it seems.

I love them dearly, and I will never forget the lessons they have taught us all.

Senator Brown's bill is just wrong

2010-05-19T15:25:00.003-04:00

This column originally appeared in the Sun Chronicle on Saturday, May 14, 2010.

“Those who would give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety” – Benjamin Franklin.

This famous quotation leapt to mind recently when Massachusetts Senator Scott Brown announced his co-sponsorship of legislation entitled the “Terrorist Expatriation Act”. This bill would expand State Department powers to strip Americans of their citizenship under a 1940 law, if the government determines they have joined or supported a terrorist-type organization.

These Americans would not have to be convicted of any crime. They would have the right to appeal the government’s determination - after the fact - through the court system. The Senator’s bill was filed largely in response to the recent car bombing attempt in Times Square by an alleged naturalized US citizen from Pakistan.

“We continue to defend our nation against shadowy extremist enemies whose tactics are ever-changing and evolving, but their goal of destroying our way of life remains the same," explained Brown, the country’s newest senator. “It is critical to our homeland security that we adjust and adapt our defense measures to keep terrorism out of our country.”

The law Brown seeks to expand was created as America was about to enter the war in Europe and battle the Nazi government. When Senator Joseph McCarthy started hunting Communists in the 1950’s, the law was given more teeth in response to the fear gripping the nation.

But it has rarely been used or enforced because the Supreme Court has consistently ruled citizenship can only be given up voluntarily. And that is as it should be, because citizenship is the single most important protection Americans have against unfair persecution, particularly by those in positions of governmental power.

The idea a senator from Massachusetts, where American liberty was conceived, could sponsor a bill that would strip citizenship from those merely accused of crimes or associations is frightening and ridiculous. The fact many well-known politicians from both parties are hesitant to immediately oppose it speaks to the political climate which today has politicians pandering to prevailing public opinion, rather than standing up for the principles upon which this great nation was founded.

There are strong laws and penalties in place for those who would commit terrorism and/or treason. But citizens of this country have certain rights, even if alleged to have committed criminal acts. Those rights were fought for and secured with the blood of patriots over the last 234 years. They belong to the people of this country - not its government.

Yes, the rights of American citizens sometimes make it difficult to provide for our security. Democracy and freedom are not easy. Maintaining them means forever balancing the rights of the individual against the needs of society. It is what separates us from most of the rest of the world.

Thomas Jefferson – hardly known as a liberal zealot – said: “Rightful liberty is unobstructed action according to our will within limits drawn around us by the equal rights of others. I do not add 'within the limits of the law' because law is often but the tyrant's will, and always so when it violates the rights of the individual.”

People have the right to be safe in their homes. Those who violate the laws of our land should face the appropriate punishments. And those convicted of plotting the violent overthrow of our government should be dealt with to the extreme, be they US citizens or not.

But proposals such as the one put forth by Senator Brown are as clearly political and self-serving as they are unconstitutional. Brown’s proposed law brings back sad memories of the way this country treated Japanese-Americans during World War II. It may well be popular in the current political climate, and it might earn him some votes. But it will also lose him a great deal of respect.

If we are willing to devalue American citizenship in order to protect ourselves, then the terrorists have already achieved their major goal – to begin the destruction of our way of life from within. We cannot allow that to happen.

Old Ben Franklin was absolutely right in what he said. And despite the best of intentions, Senator Brown is dead wrong in sponsoring this un-American piece of awful legislation.

Bill Gouveia is a local columnist who – contrary to popular belief – did not know Ben Franklin personally. He can be reached at aninsidelook@aol.com.

The Under-Appreciated Father of the Groom

2010-05-08T18:59:00.002-04:00

This column originally appeared in the Sun Chronicle on Saturday, May 8, 2010.

If you see me hanging around looking useless, you might assume that’s just the natural state for newspaper columnists. But no, I am merely readying myself for the final performance of a role I have played once thus far in my life.

My youngest son is getting married early next year to a wonderful young lady (I get in trouble when I call her “The Doctor”, but I’m very proud of her). So next March 12th I will don whatever finery I am instructed to wear, go where I am told, and pretty much stay out of the way. Such is life for the least important, nearly invisible participant in many weddings – the Father of the Groom (or FOG).

Each wedding participant usually has a clearly defined role. The Mother of the Bride is escorted down the aisle at the beginning of the ceremony. The Mother of the Groom gets to have that emotional dance with her son at the reception. And who among us has not shed a tear watching the Father of the Bride dance with his newly-wed daughter before the cheering crowd?

The Maid of Honor stands next to the bride as she is wed. The Best Man is entrusted with holding the wedding rings and gives the much-anticipated toast. The bridesmaids and groomsmen escort each other down the aisle to take their place of honor.

But the Father of the Groom does nothing. He stays in the background, guards his wife’s purse, and maybe occasionally gives guests directions to the restroom. If your attention is called to the FOG in a wedding, it is usually because something has gone horribly wrong.

In fact, he is not even considered capable of escorting his own wife down the aisle. Instead, he trails behind as though he came in late and has to catch up. His only responsibility is to remain upright and not step on his spouse’s dress from behind.

Since my son is marrying a doctor, let me put it in a medical perspective. The FOG is the appendix of the wedding party. Should he become inflamed he can be removed with virtually no damage to the wedding itself.

Sure, in some ceremonies the FOG is tossed a bone. Maybe he gets to light a candle before the service actually starts. Perhaps he can do a reading of some obscure scripture. Or in some cases, he might get to tell the caterer the final count of how many vegetarian dinners are actually necessary. But there seems to be no traditional role for this under-appreciated, under-utilized parental unit.

Of course, wedding days are not about other people. They are about the happy couple and giving them a day to remember as they start down the path to marital bliss. It is about their commitment and love, not about making sure their loved ones have played an important role in their day.

I don’t know who said that, but obviously it was not a Father of the Groom.

My oldest son was married just over four years ago, and his ceremony and celebration were amazing and wonderful. I played my role as FOG as well as could be expected. I wore the proper clothing, made the lonesome walk behind my wife as she was escorted to her seat by my other son, and made sure she did not trip coming off the altar when we jointly went up and lit a candle. Obviously, I could not be trusted alone with an open flame.

And it was one of the happiest days of my life, as March 12, 2011 will be also. I can’t wait to watch my youngest child exchange vows and officially join the ranks of the married. His spouse-to-be is specializing in geriatrics, and frankly I’m figuring the timing is just about right for me.

But as I sit watching it happen, I think I’ll keep an invitation in my pocket in case I have to prove I’m supposed to be there. Remember, it’s all about me.

If any of you faithful readers have suggestions for this anxious FOG, I’d be more than happy to listen. After all, what else do I have to do?

Bill Gouveia is a local columnist and a soon-to-be two-time FOG. You may send suggestions to him at aninsidelook@aol.com.

Don't Pity the Pope

2010-04-27T15:18:00.002-04:00

This column originally appeared in the Sun Chronicle on April 17, 2010
It is generally unwise to write an opinion column on religion. So I won’t. But I am going to offer an opinion on the recent political and legal actions – or inactions – of the Catholic Church.

It has been a rough few weeks for the Church worldwide. The difficult and emotional issue of child abuse allegedly perpetrated by priests and ignored or covered up by Church officials has once again raised its ugly head. But this time accusations of a cover-up have not only reached the Vatican, but extended to the religious leader and Vatican head of state – His Holiness Pope Benedict.

Files recently made public as a result of a lawsuit against the Archdiocese of Milwaukee show Vatican officials were made aware of alleged abuse committed by a priest at a school for deaf children in Wisconsin. The case in question was handled by the Vatican’s Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, led from 1981-2005 by Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, who later became Pope Benedict.

The priest in question, the late Rev. Lawrence C. Murphy, was never dismissed by the church. Nor was he ever prosecuted by civilian legal authorities. He was transferred by church officials to a diocese in northern Wisconsin where he served his final 24 years of life working freely with children and parishioners.

Vatican and church officials have quickly rallied to defend Pope Benedict, strongly denying he ever had personal knowledge of the abuse situation. Many have denounced the accusations against the then-Cardinal as an attack on the Catholic Church, with one high-ranking official comparing it to anti-Semitism. Lawyers for the Vatican have also indicated the Pope has status as a secular Head-of-State, and therefore would have immunity from being forced to testify in any legal proceedings.

It is unfair and wrong to associate these horrible acts by criminal clerics with the core beliefs and faith of the Catholic Church. If that is indeed what some critics are doing, they should be ashamed of themselves.

But the actions of individual men and women – even in the name of religion – are indeed open to not only criticisms but legal action. You cannot and should not be allowed to abuse children nor hide the actions of any abuser without becoming liable for the consequences.

Thus far it appears the Catholic Church hierarchy is utilizing the “They’re Picking On Us” defense in battling the most current scandal. They are circling the wagons and attempting to portray those critical of them as anti-Catholic. And indeed, it is likely some of them actually are.

But it is not the faith or beliefs of the Catholic Church that are being questioned and tested here. Rather, it is how the flesh-and-blood people who run the multi-billion dollar entity that is the business end of the Church have conducted themselves and that business.

That should not be cloaked in religious terms. Just as the accusers should not indict an entire religion for these alleged horrific acts, the church organization itself should not seek to deflect attention from its own mistakes by questioning the integrity of victims and others unfairly.

Catholics in this area are many and devout. In Norton, a new St. Mary’s Church will open this month with a joyous celebration involving the entire community at a time when some churches are closing or consolidating. Throughout the area, Catholics remain firm in their faith and secure in their beliefs.

But it is hard to imagine they do not question the actions of some Catholic officials. It is hard to believe they approve of Cardinal Law remaining protected in Rome rather than facing investigation here. It is certain they are appalled by a priest who allegedly molested deaf children being transferred rather than disciplined by the Church or prosecuted with the Church’s help.

Can we clearly differentiate between the faith of a religion and the system created by the human beings who run it? I believe we can, I believe we should, and I believe we must.

This is dangerous ground, and those who believe their church leaders to be the infallible continuation of God on Earth will no doubt take issue. But on the list of those being treated unfairly right now, the Catholic Church doesn’t even make the top 10.

Bill Gouveia is a local columnist who can be reached at aninsidelook@aol.com.

Grandson Will Turns Two!

2010-04-27T15:15:00.002-04:00

This column originally appeared in the Sun Chronicle on April 3, 2010.
My grandson (did I mention his name is William?) turns two today. So yes, I’m writing about him again. Deal with it.

His birthday falls one week after my own and one day before his mothers’, which effectively renders both those birthdays meaningless. So Happy Birthday also to my beautiful daughter-in-law, now forever burdened with being the mother of the world’s most perfect child.

There is nothing more boring than a grandparent bragging about their grandchild. The simplest accomplishments become landmark achievements. We forget our own kids did this stuff, and that we laughed mightily when our parents created a fuss over the most mundane events.

But of course, that was THEIR grandchild. When it is YOUR grandchild, the rules are completely different.

We have already had a party for Will, complete with all the toys his parents politely asked us not to get. He got clothes from Grandma, but she also helped me pick out the motorized toy forklift he loves, like the real one Grandpa lets him sit on at his work. Needless to stay, that noisy toy is living at Grandpa’s house.

Two is a wonderful though certainly challenging age. Will is much more verbal now, which is both good and bad. While hearing “I wuv you Poppa” just makes my day, the constant requests for “outside” and “go car” can sometimes be a bit much. And as you might imagine, when visiting Grandma and Grandpa he tends to get what he asks for.

We get the fun stuff, leaving the more serious and difficult tasks to his parents. That’s the true joy of grand-parenting. It is a loophole I complained about constantly when it came to my own kids and their grandparents, but one I am fully enjoying these days.

But a few weeks ago something happened to put things in perspective. A couple we know encountered a situation that made me stop and appreciate just how fortunate I am, and how quickly that can change in ways simply unthinkable.

These folks have grandchildren, and one of those precious youngsters recently had a sudden and serious medical situation requiring both risky surgery and ongoing difficult treatments. This is complicated by the fact the kids and their parents live a considerable distance away.

As our friends rushed to the side of their stricken grandchild (who right now is doing fine, thank goodness) I was overwhelmed with concern and worry for this small child I have never met. While any seriously sick kid is something that concerns me, knowing the child’s grandparents put the whole thing in a new and different light.

The thought of anything serious happening to my grandson is absolutely paralyzing. I know as he grows there will be the inevitable cuts and scrapes, broken bones, and other injuries that are just a part of growing up. But the idea any type of serious disease could be lurking out there waiting to attack this little person I adore is almost enough to make me look for one of those plastic bubbles you read about in the science fiction stories.

Of course, I can’t do that – and I really wouldn’t want to. I want my grandson to grow up, deal with the serious issues in his life, get over the first time someone breaks his heart, and enjoy the balance that makes life worth living.

I’m so lucky to be able to enjoy him. I am sure in the future I will have the pleasure of experiencing more grandchildren, and I will love them all just as much (even when their names aren’t William).

But I pray I have never have to face that moment of fear our friends have, the fear that must be all-consuming and life-altering. With great love comes great risk. I know I signed on for all of it, the good and the bad. It is worth it in the end, but forgive me for selfishly hoping I can skip the really hard parts.

Happy Birthday to my grandson (his name is William, in case you were wondering). I know you are the birthday boy here, but you are also one of the greatest gifts I have ever received.

Bill Gouveia is a local columnist and has a grandson named William – in case you hadn’t heard. He can be reached at aninsidelook@aol.com.

The Youngest Son is Leaving

2009-10-05T18:13:00.002-04:00

This column originally appeared in the Sun Chronicle on October 3, 2009

My youngest son Nate is moving to Baltimore next week. He is moving in with his longtime girlfriend (a doctor no less) and will be starting a new job.

He is almost 28 years old, and it is perfectly normal that he leave to begin a new life. He is in love with a wonderful girl. It is what parents wish for their children.

So could somebody please explain to me why I am so sad?

Of course, next to my wife I appear ecstatic. She is trying her best to appear positive and cheerful, but it is hard when you are constantly in tears.

You see, Nate is very much his mother’s son. While he and I love each other deeply, Nate and his Mom are simply connected in a way I cannot possibly comprehend. Nate speaks “Mom”, and Mom speaks “Nate”. It’s actually rather humorous yet intimidating to watch.

Nate finishes his mother’s sentences. He knows what she is going to say before she does. When my wife is dropping the ubiquitous hints she so loves to torture me with, it is usually Nate who translates them into English. They have a love and understanding, a bond that goes well beyond the normal mother-son relationship.

My wife truly is happy for Nate, and loves his girlfriend. She was constantly sending him job postings in the Baltimore area, and even forwarded listings for condos and homes they might be interested in down there. She has known for some time this day was coming.

But now it is actually here. Next week he will be leaving. And this time he won’t be coming back except for visits and holidays and the many things we plan to drag them both back for. It’s not like the four years he spent in Virginia going to college, or the couple of years he lived in Boston. This time, it’s for keeps.

In truth, my wife is dealing with it much better than I am. This surprises me, though apparently not her. Nate and I have a somewhat different relationship from the one I share with my oldest son. While I love both equally, Nate is much more of a challenge because he is so different from me in so many ways. And the fact he is much like his mother has not always worked to our advantage.

Nate is a private person (which is why he will absolutely hate this column). Where I tend to tell everyone everything, he tells no one anything. Where I make decisions somewhat impulsively, he makes every choice like it is a life-changing process. You never make the mistake of asking Nate where he wants to go to dinner – unless you have an hour or two to properly discuss the options.

But my son is one of the most honorable people I have ever met. He is strong of character, has a big heart, and inherited his mother’s understanding of the value of family. He is smart, polite, charming and friendly. He is the kind of friend you want to have – loyal, understanding and reliable. He is every bit the man his mother and I have always wanted him to be.

I will miss going to all the Celtic games with him. I will miss rushing home to watch the Red Sox or the Patriots in our family room with him on the couch holding his laptop. I will miss him constantly proving to me he knows more about sports than I do now.

But more than that – I will miss my boy. I will miss seeing him regularly, hugging him often, and arguing with him playfully. I will miss his smile, his laugh, and his disapproving look when I mess up. I will miss my son.

We have warned them we will be visiting often and expect them back for some holidays. I will continue to tease him about taking his stuff with him when he goes. And I have asked for a written agreement that any kids he and the doctor may choose to have must be raised as Boston sport fans.

My son is moving away next week. That doctor in Baltimore is one very lucky girl.

Bill Gouveia is a local columnist who feels awfully old today. He can be reached at aninsidelook@aol.com.

Parent of a 30 year old

2009-08-18T09:04:00.001-04:00

This column originally appeared in the Sun Chronicle on August 15th, 2009

My oldest son turns 30 this week. How did this happen?

Sure, he’s married and has a beautiful son. That makes me a grandfather (did I mention my grandson’s name is William?) and that’s something I take great pride in.

But a 30 year-old son? That can’t possibly be. I demand a recount. It was only yesterday I turned 30. At least, that’s the way I remember it.

On August 17, 1979 I was a nervous 23 year-old husband expecting his first child. My wife was three weeks past due, and I was sure she was delaying just to make me miserable. She assured me carrying around an extra person through the very hot summer qualified her as the miserable one, but I remained convinced she was just punishing me.

That morning we had indications the long wait might actually be over. I rushed her to Sturdy Hospital, remembering to take our bag that had been packed for two months. It was 6:30 am when we got there, and I recall thinking the hospital parking lot was as empty as I had ever seen it. I rushed my wife upstairs to the maternity ward, sure she would be giving birth any second.

Nine hours later we were in our “Birthing Room” waiting for our son to make his appearance. I say son, but in fact we did not know the sex of the baby beforehand. But I was positive it was a boy. I refused to consider it might not be. We had the name picked out, and I would not consider a girl’s name. This was going to be my son, and his name was going to be Aaron Christopher.

I hung on the doctor’s every word whenever he made an appearance. Sensing my interest, he gave me a very important job. I was handed a pad, and told to write down the time of every contraction and how long it lasted. I did so for the next several hours, knowing the fate of my baby hung in the balance.

When the doctor returned to say the time was drawing near, I proudly presented my detailed record. He told me he had just given me that duty to keep me occupied, and threw the pad away. Thus began a lifetime distrust of the medical profession.

Finally, it was time. I scrubbed up and was allowed in the room for the delivery. As we were waiting impatiently, the public address system in the hospital blared a message that caught my attention:

“Will the owner of a grey Chevy Chevette, registration number ------ please move your car immediately, or it will be towed.”

I could not believe it – they were going to tow my car. I was told I had some time, so I ran to a hospital phone and called the front desk.

“They said they are going to tow my car, but I can’t move it now – I’m in labor!” I told an obviously confused clerk. While expressing sympathy with my plight, she explained that in my haste that morning I had failed to notice there was a sign posted in the parking lot saying it was being paved that day. So I had to get out of my scrubs and move the car, all the while muttering threats about what I would do should I miss the actual birth.

But I made it back, and at 7:04 pm my son Aaron made his debut at a whopping nine pounds, one ounce. I will forever remember the nurse walking towards me and saying “Here Dad – hold your son.” I did, and it was a feeling I have had only one other time since, when his brother was born two years later.

Now my first-born son is turning 30. He’s now taller than me, but I have forgiven him that. I am as proud of him today as I was the first time I held him, and I love him even more.

But someone is going to have to explain to me how this happened. Only old people have kids who turn 30.

I’m going to have to have a long talk with his mother.

Bill Gouveia is a local columnist who wants to wish his son Aaron a very happy 30th birthday. The elder Gouveia can be reached at aninsidelook@aol.com.

Three Deaths

2009-08-18T09:01:00.001-04:00

This column originally appeared in the Sun Chronicle on August 8th, 2009

Sometimes death can teach you a lot about life. At least, that’s what it has done for me this week.

I was touched by three deaths that occurred within the last month. The three people who died were different ages and personalities, and to the best of my knowledge never met each other. And truth be told, I didn’t know any of them all that well. Yet I found myself thinking about them, and learning lessons from each.

Ted Tausek died July 25th in Brewster at the age of 99. For the last 12 years of his life he lived in an assisted living facility on the Cape, and spent much time entertaining people with his musical abilities.

In the 1960’s he was a teacher at the LG Nourse school in Norton, and I was a student in the 6th grade. Mr. Tausek was my social studies teacher, and the first to install in me a love of current events and government. He was loud, he was opinionated, and he was enthusiastic. He definitely made an impression.

So much so that when I got married nine years later, the Ted Tausek Trio played at our wedding. We didn’t really pick him (he came with the country club) but it was a kick to have him there. I hadn’t seen him since that day 32 years ago, but his passing made me sadder than I expected.

Robert Legg of Norton died July 31st at the age of 76. I only met him a handful of times, but I was struck by his desire to help others and his willingness to put himself out there. A disabled veteran, Mr. Legg was a person who didn’t make excuses – he just worked hard to get what he wanted or needed.

I moderated a selectmen’s debate a few years ago when Mr. Legg threw his hat into the political ring. I can’t tell you he did well either in the debate or at the ballot box. His answers were rambling and hard to understand, and he finished dead last. But his enthusiasm, his dedication to veterans, and his courage in stepping forward when others would not stuck with me. I liked him, and I was somehow strangely proud of him.

Michael Hoyle of Norton died on July 28th at the far too young age of just 24. His death was a sad and tragic loss – a life ended not by old age or illness, but by demons that beset far too many young people. I know Mikey’s parents, though I didn’t know Mikey himself very well.

As I sat in the pew at his funeral, I looked around at the other attendees. I saw the grieving family members, and many of their friends and neighbors. And I saw many of Mikey’s friends – young people looking confused, upset, sad and hurt.

As I gazed at their faces, I wondered if Mikey might have more effect on some of these kids in death than he did in life. I wondered if the mistakes he may have made might become learning tools for these young men and women. I wondered if somewhere, somehow, a life might be saved because someone would remember Mikey – and that would make a difference.

There is nothing sadder than the death of a child or someone still in their early youth. It is not just the loss of the person we mourn, but the loss of all the potential contained in that person. There truly is no sadder phrase than “what might have been.”

Ted Tausek, Robert Legg and Michael Hoyle should serve as examples to us all. They each did some things well, other things not so well. But each will be remembered, and each will serve to inspire people who knew them.

When I remember Ted Tausek, I will remember a man who made others happy with the gifts he was given. When I remember Robert Legg, I will remember a man who was unafraid to step up when he believed he could make a difference. When I remember Michael Hoyle, I will remember that potential is not just an asset, but also a burden.

And I will remember what I learned from each.

Bill Gouveia is a local columnist and can be reached at aninsidelook@aol.com.

Mom's Passing...

2009-06-17T12:55:00.002-04:00

This column originally appeared in the Sun Chronicle on June 13, 2009.

I have never really felt old - at least, not until this past Sunday. Now I'm feeling a bit more mortal, and more than a little lost and lonely.

My Mom died in her sleep Sunday night, a peaceful way to pass from this world. She was 73 and not in the best of health, so while it was not a total shock it nonetheless was a crushing blow to our entire family.As I sit here preparing for her funeral and trying to figure out what to say about the person who brought me into this world, I have been reflecting on my own life. I suspect that is what people do when their last surviving parent dies, and they suddenly realize they are now the oldest generation in their family.

Mom taught me early on about the power of unconditional love. It was from her I learned that no matter how mad I got at my family members, they were still my family. She taught me that even if awful things were said and done between us, we still had to love each other.

And believe me, we tested that premise over the years. We were different in many ways, but we shared a common trait of stubbornness. Neither of us liked to lose an argument, and both of us knew how to throw that particularly cutting phrase in at the end of a battle. Of course, when you fight with your mother, even if you win you still lose. It took a long time for that lesson to sink in.

My parents split up when I was 12, and I became very protective of my mom. As I got older, I wanted to be out with my friends. But Mom needed me home to watch my younger brother and sister while she worked, because affording a babysitter was difficult. That led to many spirited discussions, and usually wound up with me sitting at home. Mom had a job working in the school cafeteria and later in the superintendent's office. That meant she was at my school often, and it was very difficult for me to get away with anything.

After I got married and had children, my mother discovered her true niche in life. She was born to be a grandmother. She loved my two boys with a passion and dedication that was as pure as it was strong. And she told me early on that life was short, and she had no intention of wasting any time.

"When I die, no one is going to be able to say I didn't enjoy my grandkids" my Mom used to say all the time.

Mom spent every moment possible with those boys. She took them places, played video games with them, refereed their indoor wrestling matches, and pretty much allowed them to do anything they wanted. At Christmas time, the toy stores would open early just to get my mother's business. My kids adored her, right up to the day she died.

And when my son gave her a great-grandson last year (did I mention his name is William?) my mother's life was truly complete. Although she knew him for just one short year, he captured her heart completely. Just when she thought she had given all the love she could, she found she had even more to give.

Now Mom is gone, and I'm a grandfather. All the things she did with her grandchildren that sometimes irritated me so much as a parent, I intend to do with my grandchildren. I'm not going to let anyone say I didn't enjoy my grandkids either.

The next time grandson Will does something amazing, I know I will catch myself reaching for the phone to tell my mother all about it. It will be at that time the true impact of this past week's events will truly hit home.

I'm now the oldest surviving member of my immediate family. It is now my turn to complain about high prices, the younger generation, and how the kids hardly ever call anymore.But I know I will never be able to do it all as well as Mom did. I love you, Mom.

BILL GOUVEIA is a local columnist, and the proud son of the late Patricia (Houghton) Keeler. He can be reached at aninsidelook@aol.com.

Grandson Will writes a column

2009-05-04T16:26:00.004-04:00

This column originally appeared in the Sun Chronicle on May 2, 2009.

I hope you readers will bear with me, because this is my first newspaper column. My name is Will Gouveia, and I just turned one year old – but please don’t hold my youthful inexperience against me.

My Grandpa Bill Gouveia usually occupies this space on Saturday mornings, but I asked Grandpa if I could borrow his column because I have a few things I want to say. He’s doing most of the typing.

I want to talk about relationships. Not the mushy kind, with all that romantic stuff. Remember, I’m only one. I want to talk about the importance of family relationships. Who knows more about that than someone who is completely dependent on them for daily survival?

Mom and Dad have to take care of me. It’s their fault I’m here at all (even though I’m not real clear yet how that happens). But I think I’m pretty lucky, ‘cause I’ve got really cool parents. It’s hard to imagine people who would love me more than they do. They tell me all the time – even when I’m screaming at three o’clock in the morning.

Mom works at something called a bank. All I know is lots of people go there, and they have lots of money. She’s a boss there, and tells people what to do – just like at home. Dad writes for a newspaper. I know what that is, because I love pulling them off the couch and crunching them up.

I want to say thanks to Mom and Dad for making my life so great. To be sure, they haven’t done everything right. Dad should have kept me away from that evil goat at the Petting Zoo, and Mom has dressed me in some pink stuff. But overall they are amazing, and I wouldn’t want anyone else for parents.

Since this is Grandpa’s column, I have to mention him. My full name is William George Thomas Gouveia. I’m named after my three wonderful grandfathers. Grandpa Bill thinks it is a really big deal my first name is the same as his. He tells everyone about it – and I mean EVERYONE!

Grandpa talks to me and tells me stories. He signed me up for Red Sox Kid Nation when I was two days old. He’s promised me one of his Patriot season tickets someday so I can go to a game – although he insists it will be the ticket he usually gives to Dad.

But he also talks to me about stuff I really don’t understand yet. He tells me how important it is to be involved with my family and friends as I get older. He introduced me to Uncle Rick, who isn’t really my uncle but has been Grandpa’s friend since they were in the first grade – which I think was back in the 1800’s sometime. He tells me that a person who has friends and family around him will always be rich, even if they don’t have any money. He says I should be happy I have so many uncles, aunts, and great-uncles and aunts too – not to mention great-grandparents.

The best part about spending time with Grandpa is getting to see Grandma. She taught me how to humor the old guy and get what I want. She apparently has been doing that a long time. She is extra-special in her own right. I learn so much from her, and next to Mom she gives the best hugs in the whole world. Grandpa is a lucky guy.

Grandpa has what he calls his “Golden Rules” and has taught them to me. They are: One – your family is always your family regardless of how much they tick you off. Two – always treat people the way you want them to treat you. And three – never, ever leave Fenway Park until the game is over. Grandpa is a guy who has his priorities straight.

Thanks for reading my first column. Now I’m going to have Grandpa get me some juice. I’m not really thirsty, but it makes him happy to think he did something for me. Dad and Uncle Nate say he wasn’t this way when they were kids. I guess they just didn’t have my charisma.

And neither of them was named William.

Will Gouveia’s grandfather Bill Gouveia is a local columnist, and can be laughed at by emailing aninsidelook@aol.com.

Fighting the Furniture War

2009-03-09T09:09:00.002-04:00

This column originially appeared in the Sun Chronicle on March 7, 2009.

The war in Iraq seems to be going better lately, the war in Afghanistan worse. But the biggest shift has been in the Furniture War being waged in my humble household.

One of the most basic rules of engagement is never become involved in a war you cannot win. Despite this valuable advice, men continue to marry women at a dizzying clip. Over time, the losses begin to pile up.

The Furniture War started when the first Caveman dragged home the first comfortable rock chair, and the first Cavewoman made him put it out of sight in the basement. Nowhere are the differences between men and women, or husbands and wives, more clearly displayed than in their furniture preferences.

That is not to say I am completely without victories in the furniture arena. We have a large-screen TV in our family room that if my wife had her way would not be there. Our previous living room furniture was bought over her objection when I got a deal from a friend in the business, and used my then-young children as pawns to gain my evil way.

But my wise and patient wife is in this for the long run. After nearly 32 years of marriage she has clearly developed the upper hand with regard to furniture (and most everything else). Currently she is in the midst of an aggressive offensive, clearly establishing her control of the Gouveia furniture empire.

It started a few years ago when it became time to replace our sectional sofa. We discussed what we wanted, but I had an ultimate goal. I was willing to sacrifice color, style, perhaps even comfort on the sofa purchase. But I was fixated on and prepared to hold out for what I considered one critical yet practical necessity.

I wanted cup-holders. You know, places to put my drink while watching TV. I was willing to compromise and accept cup-holders hidden in the foldable arms, but I really considered cup-holders to be a vital and necessary piece of a functional sofa.

My wife reacted as if I had suggested selling advertising on the couch cushions. She told me cup-holders were for a frat house, not her house. I thought I could wear her down. I brought my youngest son with me during shopping to help plead my case. But in the end, it was simply a hill my forces were unable to secure. Today my beverages sit alone on the coffee table, hopelessly and helplessly out of my easy reach.

So I changed my strategy. I began to work on the coffee table itself. I saw these tables that rise and move towards you, then lower back to their original position. I considered this to be a wonderful compromise. I sent a peace emissary to my wife, and we began negotiations towards a non-violent settlement.

She showed some signs of weakness here. She actually went with me to the store, and eventually agreed to allow me to purchase a table she could “live with if I have to”. But she raised some valid points about the integrity of the table’s construction, and her attitude sent the message that a victory here would most likely cost me dearly in another yet-to-be-determined arena. I meekly surrendered my position, living to fight another day.

But she recently pulled off a major coup in the war. On our way back from the Cape one day, she slyly suggested we stop at a furniture store having a huge sale. It was not for us, she insisted, but rather to look for something her sister was seeking for our nephew. I fell for it.

Half an hour later we left the store – with a new kitchen set. I had not been aware we needed one. It consists of high wooden chairs that narrowly fit my ever-widening rear end. I am a beaten man.

I have informed my wife that should I spill a beverage on her carpet or couch, it is not my fault – I have no cup-holder. She merely shakes her head, and goes back to plotting her next move.

War is Hell. Now where did I put that drink?

Bill Gouveia is a local columnist and a thirsty veteran of the Marriage Wars. He can be reached at aninsidelook@aol.com.

Sign of the Times

2009-03-03T13:23:00.001-05:00

This column originally appeared in the Sun Chronicle on February 28th, 2009

“Sign, sign, everywhere a sign
Blocking out the scenery, breaking my mind
Do this, don’t do that, can’t you read the sign?”
- Five Man Electrical Band

Is it a sign of the times, a sign of trouble, or a sign of things to come? That remains to be seen, but the attitude of Norton officials towards some local businesses is a bad sign in general.

The Norton Planning Board is currently considering a ban on certain types of illuminated signs in town. You’ve all seen the signs – the ones that look like small television sets displaying not only words but actual animation.

The concern of Norton planners (and I use the word “planners” loosely) is twofold. First and foremost, they are concerned about safety. Some believe the signs are too distracting for motorists, particularly at night, and could cause accidents and injuries.

Secondly, the signs offend the delicate sensibilities of some officials and residents. Selectman Bob Kimball summed that attitude up saying “It kind of takes away from the small-town look of things. It kind of gives it a Vegas look.”

Yeah, just the other day a motorist on Route 123 in Norton stopped to ask me how to get to Caesar’s Palace. The signs along the roadway had obviously convinced him he was on the downtown Vegas strip. You know how we locals are easily confused.

It is not my goal here to make light of safety concerns or the wishes of many to live in idyllic rural bliss. But in a town with a record and reputation of being as anti-business as Norton, it would seem officials would have a lot more important things to do than cracking down on good taxpayers who are just trying to survive and make a living.

Norton did not have zoning until 1974. It does not have a clearly defined “downtown”. It is a large town area-wise, consisting of almost 30 square miles. It contains one supermarket, five donut shops, four banks, five schools, two car washes, a small industrial park, a PGA golf course, and a whole bunch of small businesses trying to stay afloat in these oppressive economic times.

Some of these businesses have embraced technology and utilized eye-catching signs. The signs are helping their businesses. The signs are conspicuous (which is what signs are supposed to be) and draw attention.

But are we to believe in this day of cell phones, CD players, GPS devices and car speakers the size of Rhode Island that an illuminated sign on the roadside is a threat to the public? Drivers are capable of safely looking at a GPS screen in their car, but an outside sign advertising a car wash might force them off the road?

Norton has never been a business-friendly community. There was a McDonald’s in Moscow before there was one in Norton. A pizza delivery company was not allowed to locate in the Roche Brothers plaza because of traffic concerns. A Dunkin Donuts near the alleged center of town has been denied a drive-thru by the Planning Board, but homeowners living on tiny residential lots in a Water Protection District have been granted permission to raise chickens on the premises.

Our federal government recently passed an $800 billion economic stimulus package to revive our failing economy. Yet Norton continues to make things as difficult as possible for those small businesses that make up the backbone of our economic system.

I’ve lived in Norton virtually my entire life. I’ve watched it grow from 6000 residents in 1965 to close to 20,000 today. I loved the town I grew up in during the 60’s, and I love the town now.

But I’m able to recognize those are two different towns. The rural Norton of my youth has gone the way of my late grandparents’ Norton farm. It’s still there – it just doesn’t look the same anymore.

To those who are offended by the illuminated signs, I ask – would you be happier with normal signs proclaiming “Out of Business”? Would those signs make your town better and safer? Reasonable regulations on illuminated signs are fine, but don’t ban them.

Norton has many problems requiring prompt action. Illuminated signs are not one of them.

Bill Gouveia is a local columnist and longtime Norton resident. He can be reached at aninsidelook@aol.com.

A Curling we will go...

2009-01-29T13:00:00.001-05:00

This column originally appeared in the Sun Chronicle on January 24th, 2009.

As much as I love sports, I have never been much of an athlete. Anyone who knows or has ever seen me can vouch for that fact.

But that hasn’t stopped me from trying to compete over the years as best I could. As my sons got older, I tried to join them in certain athletic activities. As recently as two years ago I pitched on a slow-pitch softball team, and managed to hold my own. I did decimate a hamstring simply running to first base – but hey, at least I tried.

Lately my attempts to best my two boys have been limited to events such as horseshoes, bocce, and the more-my-speed world of fantasy football. Let the record show I did finish ahead of both of them in one league this year, and for the first time won a championship in a different league. But that doesn’t really count in an athletic or physical skill sense.

Now I am attempting to compete with them in a new and entirely unfamiliar sporting arena. Starting next week, I will be on a team competing against my sons in a sport (?) I never thought I would be playing.

I am now attempting curling. That’s right – curling.

For those who don’t recognize just what curling is, think back to the winter Olympics. Did you see that strange game with people slowly gliding big round rocks down a sheet of ice while others frantically swept in front of the rock like deranged 1950’s housewives? That is curling.

My younger son Nate got into curling while attending college a few years back in Virginia. After watching the Olympics, he and some friends found a curling club in Maryland and decided to give it a try. He thoroughly enjoyed the experience and raved about it to his family members.

His older brother Aaron, a newspaper reporter on Cape Cod, covered an event at the Cape Cod Curling Club in Falmouth a short while back. Intrigued by the unusual game and remembering his brother’s stories, he decided it would be a great Christmas gift to sign the three of us up for curling lessons.

You may be thinking it can’t be all that difficult to slide a big rock down a sheet of ice – and you would be right. But curling is a much more skilled and difficult game than it looks like on television, as I quickly found out. Sliding the rock is easy, but getting it to stop where you want is not.

There is much strategy involved in the game, and I am just beginning to understand it all. The captain of each team – called the Skip – calls all the shots and tells his teammates where he wants each rock to land. The first player to throw on each team – called the Lead – is asked to simply get his rocks in the way of the other team. The third thrower (the Vice Skip) takes over when the Skip throws the last rocks and “has the hammer” as he tries to score. You sweep the ice in front of the rock to make it slide further.

Confused? Me too. But I’m slowly learning.

You deliver the 42 pound granite rock by sliding down the ice and gently releasing it as you gracefully glide. My first attempt ended with me face first on the cold surface. My sons were hardly perfect in their early attempts, but they did catch on much more quickly than their competitive Dad.

There is a definite code of conduct amongst curlers, and a lot of etiquette rules. My fellow curlers are of all ages, although a large percentage of the club members are my age or older. This may have something to do with the fact the average age of a Cape Cod resident appears to be 98 or so, but age is not a big factor in curling. It is much more a game of skill than endurance.

My first match in league play will be Tuesday night. I’m practicing my sweeping. My lofty goal is to try and not make a fool of myself. I’m playing Nate’s team. If I fail, I’m sure my sons will let you know.

Bill Gouveia is a local columnist, a grandfather, and hopefully a curler. If not hospitalized, he can be reached at aninsidelook@aol.com.

The Power of Will

2009-01-07T11:54:00.001-05:00

The column below originally appeared in the Sun Chronicle on Saturday, January 3, 2008.

It has been said having a grandchild changes everything. But when whoever coined that phrase said everything, I didn’t know they really meant “everything”.

As I might have mentioned once or twice before in this space, I was blessed with my first grandchild this past April. Grandson Will (did I mention his name is William?) is everything a grandparent could possibly want. He is adorable, personable, and smart as a whip. He has made the lives of everyone around him so much better.

Well – almost everyone.

You see, since Will was born on April 3, 2008 strange and mysterious things have been happening. Changes have occurred not only in the lives of Will’s happy relatives, but in the political world, the business world, and in particular the sporting world.

Since Will was born, politics have undergone tremendous change. The Republicans nominated a woman for Vice President. The Democrats carried Virginia in a presidential election. And of greatest note, the country elected an African-American President for the very first time.

Since Will was born, 300 point daily swings in the stock market have become the norm. The Fed has lowered interest rates all the way to zero. Mortgage rates are at their lowest in decades, and the Big Three car companies are begging for money in Washington like panhandlers on a street corner.

But Will’s greatest impact may have come in the sporting world, in ways both good and bad. Let’s review what has happened there since Will’s debut.

Shortly after Will’s birth, the Celtics went from a last-place team to winning the World Championship, their first in 22 years. The Boston Bruins, the laughing stock of Boston sports for the last decade, are now the hottest team in hockey.

On the flip side, since Will was born Tom Brady has played less than one quarter and suffered a season-ending injury. The Patriots won 11 games and somehow did not make the playoffs. The Red Sox went from World Champions to losing the American League Championship to – it is hard to say this – Tampa Bay.

On the opening Sunday of football season, my son brought Will to our house to participate in our good-luck rituals. He wore a Tom Brady jersey, and we watched Super Bowl video’s (not last year’s) to warm up for what promised to be a great Patriot season.

After Brady went down with his injury, the tiny Brady jersey was promptly removed from my angelic grandson and stuffed in a drawer where it can no longer harm anyone. Later, my son put a Tedy Bruschi jersey on him – and Bruschi got hurt. We are not blaming Will for either injury – but we didn’t put anyone else’s number on his back for the remainder of the season, just in case.

After the Pats were eliminated from playoff contention last Sunday, my family members began to discuss the post-Will world in which we now all live. It quickly became apparent to us that my grandson has been endowed with some type of strange power, and is struggling to control it.

We will now try and find ways to harness the wonderful power of Will. We must find ways to channel his karma for purposes that help us, and steer it away from the unwitting damage his unchecked aura has created.

Maybe we could get him Yankee pajamas and hope it leads A-Rod to marry Madonna and retire from baseball. No, forget it – there is no way we would ever allow Yankee pajamas on a beloved family member.

Of course, non-believers like Will’s mom and grandmother firmly reject any notion that young Will could somehow be connected to anything that brings bad luck. They need to understand we are not saying Will is unlucky – just that he has yet to grow into the superstitions and rituals we all know control the world. We just have to get him through this difficult stage.

I love my grandson with every ounce of my being. But I’m telling you, if the Celtics go on a long losing streak, Brady breaks his other leg, or the Detroit Lions beat the Pats in the Super Bowl next year – we are going to have to cover that kid in rabbit’s feet.

Bill Gouveia is a local columnist and has a grandson named William, who is the greatest. Grandpa can be reached at aninsidelook@aol.com.

A New Holiday Battle...

2008-11-25T15:08:00.001-05:00

This column originally appeared in the Sun Chronicle on November 22, 2008

The Holiday Season officially kicks off Thursday with my personal favorite, Thanksgiving Day. My wife and I will gather with family, eat some turkey, watch some football, and enjoy our favorite holiday traditions.

But there is a power struggle going on within our clan over just where the holiday celebrations will be held this year – and with whom.

This is our first holiday season as grandparents, and that is a joy I cannot properly express. My 7 month-old grandson (did I mention his name is William?) has given us renewed holiday spirit the likes of which we haven’t enjoyed since our own two sons were toddlers looking amazed beneath the tree on Christmas morning.

But our family is a bit more spread out now. Our married son and his family live on the Cape. They have expressed a desire to experience their own holiday celebrations this year, skipping some or all of our traditional family gatherings to start their own traditions.

That’s nice. Misguided, but nice.

Just who do these new parents think they are? They have the first grandchild on either side of the family, and decide they will dictate where and when the holiday celebrations will be? Sorry – that’s our job.

You see, we have earned our spot in the family pecking order. These young people haven’t paid their dues yet. There should not be any leapfrogging over those of us who have put in our time.

Almost 30 years ago my wife and I were the newly-married parents of the first grandchild on both sides. This made us very popular. Our presence was requested – read that to mean expected – at the traditional gathering of each family at holiday time.

Concessions were made as to schedules so we could bounce from one family celebration to the other. For years we took our kids on a hectic holiday tour, visiting relatives and friends and usually eating two holiday meals. And for years, we complained about it.

We tried to cut down on holiday travel. People can come see us, we reasoned. But we had a small home, and elderly and handicapped relatives for whom travel was simply too difficult. The mere suggestion we “alternate” holidays between the families was met with disapproving stares and teary-eyed sad faces.

But when my son was a year old, we informed my family we would not see them Christmas Day. My mother was hysterical. My grandmother, to whom I was very close, called me to her hospital bed early in December saying she had to ask me something.

“Please don’t take our baby away from us on Christmas,” this saint of a woman cried to me. I folded like a cheap suit, and promised her I would work something out. And I would have fulfilled that promise – except she died that Christmas morning and our celebration was decidedly muted.

As the years went on and people got older, we eventually gained in holiday status by virtue of our longevity. We bought a bigger house, and began hosting dinners for both families. It took a while, but we got there.

Now we find our status prematurely threatened. Our son and his wife are trying to pull a bloodless coup. With virtually no time served, they are expecting to move into Most Favored Nation status. This would be the political equivalent of Barak Obama totally skipping the presidential primaries, but still expecting to be nominated at the convention.

Our kids live in a condo not large enough for the entire family. While we have tradition on our side, they have a powerful tool in this fight – our perfect grandson. They know full well there is nothing in this world we wouldn’t do for Will (what a great name) and that we would never put our needs and wants above his having a wonderful Christmas.

So we wait and see what will happen. Strategic and top-secret negotiations will no doubt take place. Both sides seek a peaceful settlement.

Maybe we did it wrong all those years. But remembering my grandmother always convinces me that in the end - it was worth it.

Bill Gouveia is a local columnist, and – in case you hadn’t heard – has a grandson named William. You can send him holiday advice at aninsidelook@aol.com.

A Teacher Who Made A Difference

2008-11-02T07:52:00.002-05:00

This column originally appeared in the Sun Chronicle on October 25, 2008

As voters throughout the area prepare to pack the polling places Nov. 4, I have to wonder: Why don't people get this involved and excited when it is time to participate in their local government?

The obvious answer is - they didn't have an Al Nuttall.

Ever had a teacher who greatly influenced your life? Al Nuttall is a former long-time teacher at Norton High School. If people want someone to blame for my involvement in local government, then Al is their man.

Mr. Nuttall taught social studies - and nearly everything else - during his many years in Norton. He coached several sports, ran the school-sponsored recreation program, and was a student favorite.

In my senior year, Mr. Nuttall taught a course called "Modern Problems." I'd like to tell you I took his class because it sounded interesting and challenging. But in truth, it just sounded a lot easier than math or science.

In that class, Mr. Nuttall introduced us to the politics of government. We studied how the Miranda case changed law enforcement in America. We learned about discrimination and the disgraceful resistance to racial equality in this country. We were exposed to political extremism and topics I knew about, but never really understood.

We also learned how our local town government worked. We studied Town Meeting and the issues facing it in that year of 1974. We learned of the role of selectmen, school committee, and finance committee. It all sounded pretty boring - until Mr. Nuttall decided to bring it all to life for us.

He set up a mock Town Meeting, completely run by students. Some of my classmates were selectmen, and they took positions favored by that board. Others were finance committee members, arguing the opposite position. The issue was what raises should be given to town employees.

The mock Town Meeting audience was the student body. The actual Town Moderator, the late Joseph Yelle, came to run the meeting. I played the role of Finance Committee chairman.

The debate was actually very intense, as both sides argued hard for their position. I don't remember which way the "town meeting" actually decided. But Mr. Nuttall made sure we all learned the rules, how to be recognized, how to treat others with respect, and how to make and vote on motions.

A week later, the recreation budget was up for debate at Town Meeting. As a newly-registered 18 year-old senior, I went to the meeting with Mr. Nuttall. He told me if I cared about the program, I needed to go and support it.

After a resident got up and spoke against it, the chances of approval seemed dim. With Mr. Nuttall's words ringing in my ears, I stood and was recognized. I spoke of the program, how it helped kids and was important to the community. People seemed pleased to hear from somebody who actually benefited, and the budget was approved overwhelmingly.

Mr. Nuttall couldn't stop smiling.

A week later I was called to the school office. I was a bit nervous - that is hardly ever a good thing.

In the office was the principal, Mr. Nuttall, and Town Moderator Yelle. Sensing my confusion, Mr. Nuttall told me the moderator had something to ask me. "I'm looking for a young person to serve on the Finance Committee" the distinguished and dignified Mr. Yelle told me. "Your teacher thinks you would be a good choice, and so do I. What do you think?"

I was probably the first would-be appointee ever to say he needed to go home and ask his mother first. But I did accept, and that led to 15 years on the Finance Committee, six years as a selectmen, 34 years of attending Town Meeting, and eventually having the honor to serve in the moderator position once held by the man who first appointed me.

But none of that would have happened without Al Nuttall, as I said when I spoke at his retirement dinner years later. I told all the people at that gathering that Al Nuttall had made a real difference in my life. And now I've told you.

Everyone should have an Al Nuttall.

BILL GOUVEIA is a local columnist and the Norton town moderator. He got an A in Mr. Nuttall's class. You can reach Bill at aninsidelook@aol.com.

Guns DO Kill People

2008-11-02T07:43:00.002-05:00

This column originally appeared in the Sun Chronicle on November 1, 2008.

In this country and this state, we protect children. We insist they be strapped into car seats. We urge parents to make them wear helmets when riding bicycles. We regulate what snacks they can eat in school.

Yet this past week, 8-year-old Christopher Bizilj was allowed to go to a private gun club in Westfield with his father and fire a fully automatic weapon on his own. Not surprisingly, this weapon, designed for no purpose other than killing people, was too powerful for this innocent young child. Unable to handle the recoil, he shot himself in the head and died.

Now I fully admit I am not a gun person. I do not own one. I do not shoot them. I believe they should be heavily regulated - quite a bit more heavily than seatbelt wearing and bicycle helmets.

But I do not support eliminating all guns. I favor responsible gun ownership. I respect the rights of hunters, collectors and enthusiasts to own certain weapons. I back the right of individuals to protect their domicile and property by responsibly keeping a weapon in the home.

But gun shows where 8-year-olds are allowed to shoot Uzis? Sorry NRA - I definitely draw the line there.

While I do not necessarily support a ban on all guns, I see no earthly reason why anyone who is not in law enforcement or the military needs to own a fully automatic weapon. And it is disgusting and confusing to me when those who own them vigorously defend their right to do so.

We have the right to bear arms in this country. That should never be interpreted as the right to possess fully automatic weapons in residential communities. Any argument that it does is, quite frankly, absurd.

I know the gun lobby will spin this incident with this poor child. They will rightfully blame the instructor for lack of supervision. They will rightfully blame the parent for failing to watch over his child properly. They will rightfully blame the gun club for not having proper security.They will blame everyone and everything - except the gun. It is never the gun's fault.

You see, if they allowed blame to be placed on the gun it would be a threat to their industry, their philosophy, and their beliefs. Guns don't kill people - people kill people, goes the famous tag line. That is nice glib advertising, and it gets their point across quite well.

But dead 8-year-old children shot in the head by weapons that should only be used in war make a pretty serious point in the opposite direction.

Guns do kill people. So do cars, planes, and knives. We don't ban cars just because some people do not operate them properly and harm others. Why should guns be any different?

The answer is because they do not serve other purposes as well. People own cars because they make our lives possible. They transport us to and from places. They allow us to make our livings.

Automatic weapons kill people. That is why they are made. That is all they do. They are machines designed for no other purpose.

We are not talking about hunting rifles, or collectible muskets, or target pistols. You don't take an Uzi out deer hunting and gun down an entire herd in five seconds flat. So why in the name of all that is sane do we not ban these weapons across the country?

The NRA and others tell us there should not be bans on automatic weapons and hollow point ammunition. If you do that, they reason, then only the criminals will have them and the good law-abiding folks of this country will be overrun. Also, if you let them take our Uzi's, then they will come after our other guns next. You can't let "them" get a foot in the door.

That argument is as sad as it is wrong.We should ban automatic weapons. We should not allow them at gun shows where you don't need a permit to shoot them. We should more strictly regulate places where guns are shot. And if anyone wants to know why, we should tell them:

Christopher Bizilj.

BILL GOUVEIA is a local columnist and a staunch supporter of responsible gun control and healthy 8-year-olds. He can be reached at aninsidelook@aol.com.

Sox

2008-10-18T13:02:00.002-04:00

After watching the Sox come back against the Rays Thursday night, I'm exhausted. But I'm thrilled that at long last, the real baseball season is underway.

It may only last one more game, but who cares? This is what sports is all about, this is the payoff for being a fan. These are games that matter, this is intensity, and this is why I love sports.

CoCo Crisp's at-bat in the eighth inning was incredible. Ten pitches. Ten excruciating, painful, suspense-laden pitches. I was screaming at the TV with my youngest son, telling CoCo he could do it while never for a second truly believing he would. But he did. They did. it was wild.

Now I can't wait for Game Six tonight. I have a surprise 50th birthday party to go to for my secretary tonight, but I will be leaving early. I feel bad - but I will still leave early.

Some things are simply more important than others.

Angry Liberal

2008-10-07T12:31:00.001-04:00

This column originally appeared in the Norton Mirror in August 2006 - but it remains relevent today!

Okay folks, step back. Secure the women and children, batten down any hatches you might have, return your seat backs to their upright position, and buckle all safety belts. You are about to hit some reading turbulence.

Today, I am one ticked-off Liberal.

I have never minded the political and social debates between liberals and conservatives. I’ve always thought a spirited discussion of the issues and philosophies of the times was a good thing for this country. And I have shared in trading barbs, good-natured and otherwise, with friends and foes in the past.

But now the mind-numbing and bigoted conservatism of those on the far right, especially those in positions of national leadership, has finally gotten to me. I’m not going to sit back any more and chuckle at their ignorant antics and tactics, or let them paint me and others as supporters of terrorism or valueless demigods concerned only with themselves.

To Dick Cheney, Ann Coulter, Karl Rove, and those locally who are disciples of their conservative brand of hatred and discrimination – your 15 minutes are up. We Liberals (and yes – we are still out here in great numbers) are no longer going to sit back and let you define who and what we are.

I’m so tired of hearing how Liberals are out of touch with mainstream America, how our values are non-traditional and un-American. That’s pure bull****, and those saying it for their own political advantage should be ashamed.

Liberals believe in individual rights and personal freedoms. These are the very principles that drove our founding fathers to create this great country. They came here in search of religious and individual liberties, trying to found a country where people were inherently equal. They were truly the first American Liberals.

You want to tell me my values are un-American? I ask you – what is more American than wanting to ensure equal rights for everyone regardless of their race, creed, national origin or sexual orientation?

You want to tell me that voicing my opposition to this war in Iraq is un-American and gives aid and comfort to the enemy? That is so stupid even those like you who are blinded by political power and ambition have to see it.

Liberals love this country just as much as you do, and they are just as quick to defend it when necessary. But we are not so arrogant and insolent as to think our American way of doing things is right for everyone. We see no need to force ourselves upon those who see or do things differently – unless they threaten us or our allies.

Every great empire in history began to fade when they decided they had to create their own vision of the world everywhere they went. Liberals understand that, and have trouble grasping that ultra-conservatives do not.

We reject terrorism and will battle it wherever it exists with the same ferocity and patriotism you possess. But we will not write a blank check to leaders who manipulate the terrorist threat to advance their political agendas.

We seek to allow people who love each other to marry – you do your best to deny them that right. We seek to give people the right to end their lives with dignity – you seek to control them and use them as political pawns.

I don’t question your love for this country – don’t you dare question mine.

The greatest leaders in this country’s history have been Liberals, and those currently in power aren’t worthy to hold their political sneakers. So spare me any more of this sanctimonious and pious garbage. You hold no edge over us when it comes to values or love of country.

To all you Liberal-bashers out there – Bite Me! We are a peace-loving people, but you really don’t want to make us mad.

Camping Never Gets Better...

2008-10-01T14:38:00.001-04:00

This column oringinally appeared in the Mansfield News in August 2004.

I must either love my wife beyond all reasonable boundaries, or I am deathly afraid of her. No other reason can possibly explain my actions.

I am sitting here alone at a warped picnic table at 6:30 am in the beautiful woods of Maine. As I type my weekly missive, I am left to consider perhaps the greatest and most baffling question facing all of mankind today:

Why do people camp?

Those who have perused this space over the years know my position on this back-to-nature train of thought. If God had truly wanted us to sleep in tents, on the ground and outside, he would never have created hotels. This is known as the Holiday Inn Theory of Evolution.

Yet here I sit at dawn on a beautiful Sunday morning, fresh from my five-minute hike to what passes as a bathroom in these primitive surroundings, and I am alone. In the tent behind me my beloved tries to sleep despite my constant zippering and unzippering of the tent to retrieve some important item. The tent to my right reverberates with the ungodly snoring of my eldest son and his girlfriend. It must be her – males in my family never snore.

To be fair, I did offer to come along this year on the annual camping trek. It has been several years since I braved the wilds of Maine, much to the relief of our fellow campers. But my wife loves this unnatural activity, and since my son could only stay a few days, I decided she might welcome my company.

If you asked either of us this morning, you might get a different take.

I discovered this year that of the 40 or so camping regulars who make this annual pilgrimage, we are apparently the only ones left who sleep in tents. The others have invested in camping trailers or RVs, or rented similar equipment.

While they store their food in nice cupboards and place their perishables in small refrigerators, we live out of something less efficient and pleasant. Our dry goods are in stackable plastic bins secured to prevent marauding wild animals. Our perishables are stored in an ice chest the size of a small coffin. The highlight of each day is the trip to the local IGA store for life-giving ice.

Our site is on the shore of a beautiful lake, and the view is truly magnificent. Last night we had a perfect view of the rain and lightning as it quickly rolled over us, trying to thwart my son’s meager attempt at a campfire.

On our first night, my wife left with her friend to make a quick trip to the store. She returned three hours later, thus breaking the primary camping commandment: Thou shalt not leave Bill alone while camping (though she claims since my son and his significant other were here, there was no violation).

So last night I sat around a small fire, gazing longingly at my cell phone that refused to work up here in Moose Country. I spent much of the evening contorting my body in unusual ways, attempting to get my headphone radio unit into a position where it could receive the signal of the Red Sox game.

Now I sit here calmly watching while our friends climb into boats and head out to fish, another activity I have never really been able to embrace. I have been awake since 6 am, when a crow decided to locate directly above our tent and apparently begin broadcasting on the EBN (Emergency Bird Network). His shrill shrieks, in perfectly timed bursts of three, will be in my head for weeks.

I know my wife, who was delighted when I announced my intention to come along this year, is inside our tent now reevaluating that decision. I have a strange feeling that next year, when the annual camping trip comes up, I will be asked to remain at home and guard the family compound.

It will be a shame to miss that camping trip, but after all – duty calls.

Fathers of the Groom - Unite!

2008-09-25T13:37:00.003-04:00

This column originally appeared in the Norton Mirror in September 2003. When you read it, keep in mind one of my sons is now married, and the other...well, his doomsday clock is ticking! :)

When you are a parent, there are many opportunities to bask in your pride in the children you have raised. Of all those opportunities, perhaps none are more emotional and meaningful than when your child is married, and enters into that wonderful world of wedded bliss.

That is the time parents are officially recognized for their hard work in raising the child they are giving away. The father of the bride walks his daughter down the aisle, and has that special dance with his little girl. The mother of the bride is escorted to her seat of honor with all eyes upon her. The mother of the groom is also escorted, and has that emotional dance with her grown son. Yes, each parent has their well-deserved very special moment.

Except for the totally neglected and disregarded parent when it comes to most weddings – the ignored and seemingly forgotten father of the groom.

As you may have guessed by now, I am the father of sons. While none of them have yet gotten married (or even vaguely considered such a thing), I must admit it is one of the events I look forward to someday. Or at least I did, until I began contemplating a very sobering fact.

As father of a groom, I will have virtually no official place or chores in the average wedding. No real duties in the ceremony, no traditional dance at the reception, no shining moment of glory on that special day. While all the other parents have a clearly defined role and a starring moment, the father of the groom is relegated to a mere supporting role.

In fact, he is the appendix of the wedding party. He really doesn’t serve a purpose, and he can be removed with virtually no harm to the wedding itself.

The bridesmaids and ushers walk down the aisle. The maid/matron of honor stands next to the bride. The best man gives the ceremonial toast. They all are vital parts of this meaningful and special day.

The father of the groom does nothing. He wears a tuxedo for no apparent purpose. He is often mistaken for the caterer or the head waiter. He directs people to the restrooms and kindly declines to take drink orders.

Oh sure, he gets to walk down the aisle at the beginning of the ceremony. But he trails the mother of the groom, who is escorted ceremoniously by an usher. He isn’t even considered good enough to escort his own wife to her seat of honor. His only job is not to trip or step on her dress from behind.

I’m sure that in some ceremonies the father of the groom is tossed a bone. Maybe he gets to welcome people to the reception. Maybe he lights a candle on the altar. Maybe he gets to park cars at the reception.

But generally, he is ignored. He sits back and lets the other parents bask in the spotlight and the glow of this once (we hope) in a lifetime experience. He is shunned, the ultimate redheaded stepchild.

Oh I know this day won’t be about parents and glory and spotlights. The day will belong to the happy couple. It is all about them, their love, and their new commitment and life with each other. The day is all theirs.

That would be the noble stance. It is very easy for the other three parents, all of whom have their traditional moments-in-the-sun, to agree with that crap. After all, no one asked them if they were friends of the bride or groom, or slipped them a few bucks and told them to be careful with the new car.

If any of you faithful readers out there have suggestions to right this wrong and restore the father of the groom to his rightful place in the marriage ceremony hierarchy, please let me know. I’d be very grateful.

And take your time. Fortunately, my sons are in no hurry.

Little Anniversaries, Big Weapons

2008-09-23T11:45:00.002-04:00

This column originally appeared in the Norton Mirror in December 2006.

Today is my anniversary. But please, don’t tell my wife. I’m counting on her forgetting.

No, it is not our wedding anniversary today. That comes in May, and will be our 30th. This is a different anniversary, one of those “little” anniversaries that you usually celebrate when you are a young couple, full of hope and happiness, gazing adoringly at each other and together into the future.

You know, the kind we older couples now mired in the reality of our lives scoff at and ridicule when we observe? Well, I no longer laugh and scoff. I have taken what was formerly a liability and turned it into an asset. I no longer forget these anniversaries – I use them.

Today is 34 years to the day that my wife and I first kissed. It was when we were in high school, and took place while standing at the front door of her house. Her youngest sister was having a slumber party in the front room that night, and our first kiss ended when one of her friends watching us in the darkness felt compelled to shout out “Eeewww, mush!”.

This is just one of the “little” anniversaries we have celebrated over the years. We celebrate the anniversary of our first date, the day we started going “steady” in high school, and possibly a few others we won’t discuss here.

Over the years, the observance of these “little” anniversaries has diminished quite a bit. Kids and life in general will do that to you. I always had to struggle and try to remember all the dates, not wanting to be the one to forget and seem uncaring.

But now, with our kids grown, my wife has a busy job and career. Oddly enough, she manufactures calendars. You would think that gives her a decided advantage on all things related to dates, but in fact just the opposite is true.

She is always thinking years ahead, and has to worry about making sure she has planned all the special occasions and dates for calendars well into the future. This means she often has no idea what the current date is, let alone what it might represent.

So the first time I gave her a card for one of our “little” anniversaries and saw the look of horror and dismay on her face as she realized she had forgotten, I knew I was on to something.

At first she tried to pretend she had left her card for me at work, but eventually admitted she had forgotten. The tearful apology that followed, along with the wonderful treatment I was accorded in the aftermath, soon had me over the disappointment of being forgotten.

But I milked it – boy, did I milk it. I gave her the sad eyes, all while telling her it really didn’t matter. After all, I told her, at least she knew that I still remembered and thus still loved her. Oh yeah, I was workin’ it.

From that day on, our “little” anniversaries have become little competitions. I always get her a card, and then give it to her just after the stroke of midnight when it becomes our anniversary. Sometimes she triumphantly pulls her own card out from under her pillow, with that smug look on her face that says I have not bested her this year.

But other times I see the look of consternation, and I know I have won. On those occasions I have gained the upper hand in our relationship, albeit for a very short time. I can see the pang of regret in her eyes, the guilt that sweeps all-too-briefly across her lovely face.

So while my friends and my children may ridicule these “little” anniversaries and the way we observe them, I merely smile knowingly. After nearly 30 years of marriage, I and others like me understand the importance of any edge we can possibly gain in our relationships.

Our next anniversary is January 7th. If you see me smiling, you’ll know she forgot. I’ve got my card all signed, ready to go.

Gay, Straight - Who Cares?

2008-09-20T12:32:00.002-04:00

This column originally appeared in the Sun Chronicle on September 20, 2008.

This newspaper's recent series on how young people in the area perceive and react to gays has stirred a predictable pot of controversy.

Gay activists have applauded it. Conservative traditionalists have condemned it. And the overwhelming majority of folks simply yawned and went on with their lives.

They have done so not because the series wasn't interesting or well written, because it was indeed both. Instead, their reaction to the story merely reflects the reality of the situation both here and across Massachusetts.

Gay people are just no big deal anymore.

They are your neighbors, your friends, your family members. They have jobs like you do, pay taxes like you, and have problems similar to yours. They have their successes, their failures, and in most cases their lives are just as screwed up.They are no more or less interesting than the rest of us.

At long last, they have earned the right to be just as anonymous and ignored as their straight majority counterparts. Congratulations to them - I think.

Over the last four years homosexual marriage has been legal here in Massachusetts. Thousands of gay couples have entered into legal marriages or made their unions official in the eyes of the law. They have availed themselves to the rights and privileges previously given only to their heterosexual counterparts.

They have also been welcomed into the world of divorce, child custody battles, and the other less glamorous aspects of marriage we straight folks have kept to ourselves for so long. There is no taking the good without the bad.

But not everyone wants gay folks to become simply an accepted part of our social landscape. Some insist on trying to single out gays, to point out how different they are from the rest of us.

These good people with their "traditional values" insist homosexuals are seeking rights beyond what "normal folks" are accorded. They accuse them of seeking not equality but rather special treatment. They charge this newspaper and the "liberal media" with seeking to promote the "homosexual agenda".

Agenda? Wow - I didn't even know they had meetings.

I need to make a full disclosure here. According to the apparent rules of the prevailing political atmosphere, I am a Liberal. And even worse - I'm not embarrassed by it in the slightest.

I'm not sure which is considered worse today, being gay or being a Liberal. But it is now clear one of them is an actual choice, while the other is arguably not.

We all choose our politics, choose who and what we stand for. We choose our religions, our beliefs. And thank God we have the freedom in this country to do just that.

But choosing our sexuality? That hardly seems within our power. You can choose to perform heterosexual acts, but that does not make you a heterosexual. It is not what you do that defines your sexuality. Rather, it is who you are.

Homosexuality is not a crime - at least not in this state. Neither is it a disease for which a cure is available. It is not a political party, at least no more than conservative religious groups are.

The danger with our youth today is not that they will become too accepting of homosexuals, but that they will learn to hate and distrust people simply because they are different from themselves in ways kids cannot possibly fully understand yet.

We rightfully protest when other countries deny basic rights to women based upon nothing but their gender. Yet here at home we seek to deny rights to people we deal with every day for no reason other than their sexual identity. Is one really any worse than the other?

Does preaching acceptance make us weaker as a society? Does teaching discrimination and distrust make us stronger?

I was wondering - have I been guilty of promoting the Heterosexual Agenda all these years? Did I miss those meetings too?

What The Sun Chronicle series pointed out to me was the strides gays have made towards simply becoming ignored like the rest of us average Americans.

Sometimes you have to stand up for the right to be unnoticed.

BILL GOUVEIA is a local columnist. His writings appears here every Saturday, and he can be reached at aninsidelook@aol.com.

The Purple Door

2008-09-17T22:01:00.008-04:00

This column orginally apppeared in the Norton Mirror in 2003.

Early on in the relationship you are the Man of the House, the King of your Castle, the head of your family.

Then you come home one day, and your front door is purple. And now the world knows what you in your heart have known for some time. The King is dead. Long live the Queen.

Although most of my friends and acquaintances say it happened many years ago, for me official confirmation of my demise as pretender to the throne of my household came this weekend. Up until Sunday afternoon I was clinging to the pretense of power, putting up a solid front for the rest of the world. But now the symbol of my emasculation is emblazoned upon the front of my once revered domicile – that damn purple door.

It began last week, when my wife asked me (in that sly way that wives pretend to ask) what I thought about changing the color of the front door to our house. I reacted in typical male fashion. I told her there was nothing wrong with the color it was now, that I liked that color, and I did not want it to change. In my mind, thus endeth the discussion.

Then she asked me a trick question. She asked me what color our front door was. I scoffed at her ridiculous question, ignoring her knowing smile. I hemmed, I hawed, but she was not to be denied. I was finally forced to admit that I had no idea what color the front door of the house I have lived in for almost 14 years truly was. Damn those tricky females.

Despite this setback, I was adamant that the color not be changed. She said it was time to change it, and suggested black or purple. She says our house is grey, although the name of the paint color is Federal Blue. She said black would look good, but purple would really look wonderful.

I knew this was the time to stand firm. I said I did not agree, I thought the red (remember – red, I told myself) was the best color. I emphatically stated I did not like either black or purple, and would not grant my consent to such a drastic and outlandish change. It was out of the question, a bad idea, and I would not grant my needed agreement.

My wife looked at me in disgust, and told me I had no taste. It has been the same color for 14 years, she tried to reason with me. It will look classy and you’ll really like it when it’s done, she went on hopefully.

But it was no use. I felt like General Custer the night before Little Big Horn. I was calm, I was cool, and I was confident. The answer was no. Of course, I was smart enough not to state it as an order or an ultimatum. After all, 26 years of marriage had to teach me something.

My wife seemed to take it well. She shook her head, looked a little angry, but went on to bigger and better things. I swaggered off savoring the heady taste of my small victory, secure in the knowledge my red door was safe.

Then came the weekend, and work took me out of town. I talked to my wife several times while I was gone, and she couldn’t have been nicer. I was cautiously optimistic there would be no after-effects from the firm stand I had taken in turning her down flat.

Then Sunday afternoon I got home, turned my car into the driveway, and stopped short. There, glaring down at me like a maniacal giant jar of jelly, was my newly-painted purple front door. It was mocking me, and I knew in my heart I deserved it.

Oh, I went in and made the rather pointless complaints. I asked her why she painted the door after I said no. Her answer was simple and complete.

“I told you I wanted to do it”, she said.

I’m now telling people the purple door was my idea.

Feeding Grandpop to the Ducks

2008-09-17T22:01:00.002-04:00

This column originally appeared in the Sun Chronicle in December 2007.

The recent discovery of the cremated remains in a pond in Plainville turned out to be a simple thing. The woman’s last request to be scattered at the pond had been fulfilled, except instead of being “scattered” she was more “placed” in the pond, container and all.

After five years the container was discovered by some kids when the water level fell. They turned it over to police, who traced it back to the family.

While the story may have seemed odd to some, in my family it brought back memories of a similar situation that still makes us both laugh and shudder to this day.

Almost 20 years ago my wife’s maternal grandfather passed away. Grandpop, as we all called him, was one of the nicest men I have ever known. Deaf since an early age, he was a skilled engraver and artist with a kind heart and a gentle soul.

In his retirement years Grandpop would often walk to the park near his home. While there he would sketch people as they sat or walked, and every day he would feed the ducks populating the big pond in the center.

He went so often the ducks would recognize him and come running to greet him. His final wish was to be cremated and have his family scatter his ashes around the pond.

So it came to pass my wife’s entire family gathered together on a sunny Sunday afternoon to fulfill his final wish. Since disbursing remains in a public park is generally frowned upon, my dear late mother-in-law reminded us all to “be inconspicuous and not be noticed”.

Looking around at the assembled family members, I had to stifle a laugh. There were about 25 of us, all dressed in our Sunday best. The group included a large number of children, three wheelchairs, and my rather large mother-in-law carrying an urn.

I can’t be sure, but I think someone might have noticed us.

Once we got there, it was decided everyone would take a turn spreading a little of Grandpop’s ashes into the pond as we walked around it. Wanting to get my turn out of the way, I stepped up and offered to begin the process.

If you have never had the opportunity to spread ashes, you probably don’t understand the consistency of them. I certainly didn’t, and was a bit surprised. I took the urn and shook a little into the water, then passed it to the next relative and stepped back to view the process from a distance.

As the procession continued to sprinkle and move along the water’s edge, I noticed the ashes floating back to the surface of the water. As I stood wondering if I should tell anyone, I suddenly realized someone else had noticed.

The ducks, who Grandpop had fed every day, were rapidly swimming in towards shore. Where we saw a solemn ceremony, they merely saw dinner.

Panic struck me. I quickly strode down, tapped my wife on the shoulder, and quietly said “Don’t get upset, but the ducks are eating Grandpop.”

Already emotional over the death of a loved one, my wife alerted the others. There ensued a wild period of splashing, yelling and distracting the ducks to the other end of the pond while others stood at the edge in a desperate effort to sink Grandpop to his final resting place.

We would never have forgotten Grandpop under any circumstances, but after that experience it was even harder. And we did learn our lesson.

When my wife’s grandmother passed away a few years later, we went back to the park. But this time we brought bread, and during the scattering the ducks had a more conventional meal on the other side of the pond.

Please remember to check the law and the local regulations before spreading your loved ones in any particular area.

And it doesn’t hurt to have a loaf of bread handy, just in case.

Bill Gouveia, who wants to take his remains with him, is a local columnist. He can be reached in this world at aninsidelook@aol.com.

It Ain't Your Mother's Ice Cream Parlor anymore...

2008-09-08T11:57:00.002-04:00

This column originally appeared in the Sun Chronicle on August 30th, 2008.

I made a big mistake last weekend. I volunteered to go out and get ice cream for the family.

This used to be a fairly simple task. You took the family order for ice cream or sundaes and made the trip to your local ice cream parlor. The most complicated part was remembering who wanted whipped cream and who didn’t.

But today things have changed. It is no longer enough to have a plain old hot fudge sundae or a simple shake. And the old-fashioned ice cream parlor has given way to a virtual ice cream assembly line, where strange and unusual concoctions are slapped together before your very eyes.

My wife’s new favorite ice cream palace is in the new Mansfield Crossing mall. Whenever I announce my travel plans might take me within a five-mile radius of this devilishly addictive place, my wife’s eyes light up the way they did for me many, many years ago.

But a trip to this ice cream nirvana is not an easy journey for this old-fashioned husband. You don’t just go to a window and order. The process is much more lengthy and involved, lacking only a credit check.

First, you stand in a line to get to a long counter. While standing you get to view the large wall signs that display the many offerings available for your gluttonous pleasure. And through the glass counter you can view the tubs of ice cream, complete with flavor names designed to confuse small minds such as my own.

In addition to the usual and boring chocolate and vanilla flavors, you get to choose from flavors like Cake Batter, Cheesecake, Sweet Cream and Cookie Dough. And then there is Orange Dreamsicle, Caramel Latte, Green Apple Gummy Bear and other varieties my tired eyes were too exhausted to peruse.

The wall also boasts of the signature choices, special products with catchy names. You can order a “Cookie Doughn’t You Want Some”, a “Strawberry Blonde”, or the Hollywood-inspired “The Pie Who Loved Me”.

When you order your ice cream selection, the young people behind the counter go into interrogation mode. What do you want with your ice cream? Would you like chocolate chips, or M & M’s, or Rainbow Sprinkles? How about raspberries, pineapple, or apple pie filling? Would you care for some Almond Joy, Black Licorice, or Malted Milk Balls mixed with your ice cream?

That’s right, I said mixed. Not only can you get these additional elements added on top of your dessert, you can get them chopped and mixed into your ice cream with near-surgical precision.

Using large metal shovel-looking devices, the employees slice your ice cream more than they scoop it. It is rolled and spread on a counter. Then all these extra choices are mixed in and rolled into a giant ice cream ball, and placed into either a large waffle cone bowl or a more standard dish.

But even the dishes are complicated. I discovered I could not ask for a small, medium or large. Rather I am forced to choose from one of their custom sizes known as “Like It”, “Love It”, and the overwhelming “Gotta Have it”. I admit to being uncomfortable ordering an ice cream and telling them to make it a “Love It”.

Once I finally get my ice creams and move down the line to the register, yet another surprise awaits. As I paid my bill, I saw a jar for tips. I dropped a dollar in the jar, and began to walk away.

I stopped when I heard someone yell, “Hey guys, we got a tip. How about a song?”

In a moment the entire working crew behind the counter began chanting a clever (if somewhat unenthusiastic) little jingle about their ice cream and service. I paused to listen, somehow feeling obligated since my unwitting donation had started this whole thing. Then I smiled politely, and made a break for the car and a clean getaway.

The things I do for my wife. I’m just too good to her.

Of course, I did eat my entire sundae. I forget what it was called. But believe me, I earned it.

Bill Gouveia is a local columnist who has clearly enjoyed far too many ice creams. His column appears every Saturday, and he can be reached at aninsidelook@aol.com.

Mansfield Tragedy Ongoing...

2008-08-02T16:03:00.002-04:00

This column originally appeared in the Sun Chronicle on Saturday, August 2, 2008.

There are stories with happy endings, stories with sad endings, and stories that never truly end. The tragic tale of Rosie Shatz and Aaron Fine is unfortunately one of the latter.

On December 2, 2006 Rosie Shatz was a carefree 10-year-old girl riding her bike near her home. Aaron Fine was an off-duty Mansfield police officer driving a truck belonging to his landscaping business. They were both living lives of hope and promise.

But when the police officer’s truck collided with the little girl’s bike, both their lives ended – one literally, and one figuratively.

Rosie died that awful day, leaving her grieving family seeking answers they will likely never get.

Fine would be acquitted of motor vehicle homicide, but convicted of operating negligently and without the proper license. He was sentenced to two years in the House of Correction, but will serve only two months.

The emotional damage to himself, his wife and children, his parents and his friends has no doubt forever changed the officer and his family. Their answers are also difficult to find.

If Fine was a carpenter by trade, his future after prison would be quite a bit more certain. He would be free to go back to his vocation and perhaps find himself again in the work he trained for much of his life.

But he is a police officer, and by all accounts a fine one. A former leader of the local police union, his job performance has been hailed by many. It is a profession he loves.

“Aaron’s worked hard. He wants to be a police officer. That means more to him than anything else he would do”, said his father recently.

But he may not be able to return to his job.

That will be up to the Police Chief and officials in Mansfield, as they struggle to balance fairness to their employee with the best interests of the citizens and the department.

What is the right decision here? That is a tough call, and no one envies those who must make it. There is much to consider.

Aaron Fine made a mistake – of that there is no doubt. He did not set out that awful morning to kill a little girl. There was no evil intent here. It was a stupid decision with tragic results.

Who among us has never done something stupid that could have possibly endangered lives? But most of us got away with it. There but for the grace of God go I, the saying goes.

But Aaron Fine did not get away with it. He hit Rosie Shatz and she died. He cannot escape that awful fact, nor avoid the guilt and responsibility that will follow him the rest of his life.

Fine should serve his brief sentence, go back to his family, and do his best to lead a productive and happy life. He should not lose everything for this one horrible error.

But he should lose his job on the Mansfield police force.

Fair or not, police officers are held to a higher standard. They are the very symbol of law enforcement. They do not have to be perfect, but they simply cannot callously break the laws they are sworn to enforce.

Fine had a responsibility to know the law and follow it. He failed, and a little girl died. If he were to return, the credibility and integrity of the police department would be severely damaged.

Maybe Aaron Fine can be a police officer somewhere else. Maybe he can be happy in another profession. But if he returns to his job in Mansfield, he will forever be “that cop that killed the little girl”. Both he and the town need better than that.

Fine’s father told the Sun Chronicle “He cries about Rosie Shatz. He cries about the world. He is being brutalized, and he won’t let go”.

Aaron Fine needs to let go – of his pain, of his anguish, and unfortunately of his job. He made a big mistake. He must now move on and live his life.

Which is far more than little Rosie Shatz can do.

Bill Gouveia is a local columnist and longtime town official. His column appears here every Saturday, and he can be reached at aninsidelook@aol.com.

Unethical or just dumb?

2008-06-30T14:24:00.002-04:00

This column first appeared in the Sun Chronicle on Saturday, June 28, 2008.

This morning I would ask every registered voter in the Town of Mansfield to do something.

Please walk into your bathroom, look carefully in the mirror, and tell me – do you look as stupid as your town officials apparently think you are?

In an outrageous situation, Mansfield officials this week stopped a building project that had apparently begun despite one small detail: The money had yet to be approved by the voters.

Officials blamed the situation on poor communication that extended through several months, through multiple public meetings, and discussions between the town’s highest elected and appointed officials.

To review briefly, the school department wants to build modular classrooms to house an increase in students at a cost of $775,000. Voters face a Proposition 2-1/2 override next month for this and other projects.

School Superintendent Brenda Hodges, Finance Director Ed Vozzella and School Committee member Jean Miller say they were told by Town Manager John D’Agostino the money would be appropriated at the May Town Meeting and was not in doubt.

D’Agostino, Finance Committee Chairman Andy Gazzolo and Selectman Chairman Sandra Levine say the school officials misunderstood the funding timeline. They also claim they thought school officials were talking about the $50,000 design phase, not the actual construction.

In April, a contract was signed with the builder to proceed. Actual construction apparently began, all without the approval of the voters.

Selectman Levine says the mix-up was simply a use of words that did not jibe. “It was just a misunderstanding” the chairman stated.

Showing up to a wedding at the wrong time is a misunderstanding. Misreading your spouse’s supposed romantic signals is a misunderstanding. Coming back from the supermarket with French bread instead of dinner rolls is a misunderstanding.

Beginning work on a $775,000 public building project without approval is not a misunderstanding – it is a screw-up. A major screw-up. An inexcusable major screw-up that cannot be tolerated or simply explained away as a “misunderstanding”.

Mansfield town officials are now in a very difficult position. This preposterous situation can only be explained in one of two ways.

Perhaps officials were trying to get the townspeople invested in the project early so they would feel obligated to approve funding through an override or other means. If the project was already started and a debt incurred, it would be harder to say no. This would, of course, make the town officials sneaky and unethical.

Or it is possible these experienced, educated officials truly misunderstood the need for funding to be actually approved and available before a nearly one-million dollar public building project could be undertaken. That would mean they weren’t being sneaky or unethical – just dumb.

So which is it, Mansfield officials? Is this a case of politically unethical behavior, or just good old-fashioned stupidity?

Either way, it certainly doesn’t give Mansfield residents much reason to have confidence in their elected and appointed officials.

This is not someone misreading the fine print in a contract, or a complicated state reimbursement formula, or the misapplication of a complex law or regulation. This is an entire collection of Mansfield’s top financial officials doing a Keystone Cop impersonation over what should be the simplest of matters.

You go out to bid. You get a price. The voters approve the expenditure. You build the project. That is the way things work, the way they have worked since horses and buggies rode the streets of Mansfield. It is not rocket science.

Now this same group of town officials is asking Mansfield voters to approve a $3.2 million override, the spending of which they will oversee.

Does anyone else think there might be a small credibility problem here? A better explanation is needed, and quickly.

It may very well be this proposed override is necessary and a good thing for Mansfield citizens. Voters should not automatically decide to vote No on the override based upon this recent financial fiasco.

But boy, it has to make them think twice. If their town officials can’t handle the simple stuff, why should they trust them with even more money?

Of course, voters could say No – and then later tell officials it was all just a “misunderstanding”.

Bill Gouveia is a local columnist who is always frightened when looking in the mirror. He can be reached at aninsidelook@aol.com.

Father's Day

2008-06-23T13:46:00.002-04:00

This column originally appeared in the Sun Chronicle on June 14, 2008.

Tomorrow is Father’s Day, and across the area Dads are preparing for the onslaught of bad cologne, ugly ties, homemade cards and useful power tools that usually accompany this auspicious occasion.

Last Father’s Day was my first without my own Dad, and as a result it was a bit subdued. Tomorrow is also a ground-breaking Father’s Day for me, but for a much happier reason.

This year my oldest son joins the much-maligned Fraternal Order of Fatherhood club (FOF for short). With the birth of my first grandchild two months ago (did I mention his name is William?) my son Aaron is officially entitled to all the rights and privileges that come with recognition on Father’s Day.

His wonderful wife is planning a great celebration, complete with a trip to Fenway Park for a tour with son Will. I am sure his first Father’s Day will be both memorable and meaningful.

For me, this has put a bit of the spark back into Father’s Day. While I have no complaint with either of my sons or my wife when it comes to how I am treated on Dad’s Day, I must admit as my kids have gotten older the day has become something less than it was.

I miss the years when my young kids would trash the kitchen in a desperate attempt to make me breakfast in bed. It was some of the worst food – and best times – I have ever had.

As I type this column, to my left sits a pencil holder made by my oldest son in the first grade for Father’s Day. It is an aluminum can wrapped in paper and badly colored with crayon – but I have saved it for over 20 years now. It sits next to the decorated rock paperweight my youngest son Nate made for me when he was in kindergarten.

You just don’t throw that stuff away.

My lovely wife has gotten me some wonderful Father’s Day presents over the years, some useful and some unusual. My favorite is the year she gave me a toilet seat. I unwrapped it and stared at it like it was from another planet, not quite comprehending the significance of such an emotional and thoughtful gift.

When I questioned the appropriateness of her lovely gesture, she reminded me money was tight and we needed a toilet seat. I nodded solemnly, making a mental note to buy her a bathroom scale next Mother’s Day.

But this year I am excited for my son. He loves being a father, and seeing him get to experience the joy of being a parent has lifted my heart and lightened my spirit.

We are all influenced by our parents, in ways both good and bad. My son inherited my love of writing and my skill for placing my foot squarely in my mouth. But I’d like to think he also learned from me about being a father – both from what I did well and what I could have done better.

Nothing pleases and dismays us more than seeing ourselves come back through our children. We proudly note the similarities that make us smile, and gloss over the irritating traits we know full well they got from us.

But watching my son as a Dad is a great joy, one I had not really considered before. Welcoming him into FOF is sort of like taking him to his first ballgame. It is a right of passage for both of us.

My relationship with my Dad taught me to never hold back my feelings for my boys. I have told them countless times they will never be too old to kiss their father, and I tell them I love them as often as I can. I have always tried to be a positive influence in their lives, and with a few exceptions I think I have succeeded.

Now to see that all coming back in my son being a father to my grandchild – well, that’s one of the best Father’s Day presents I could ever receive.

Of course, it’s no toilet seat…

Bill Gouveia is a father, grandfather, and local columnist who wishes all the other Dads out there a great day tomorrow. Bill can be reached at aninsidelook@aol.com.

I'm a Grandfather!

2008-04-12T21:41:00.002-04:00

This column originally appeared in the Attleboro Sun Chronicle on Saturday, April 12, 2008.

I'm a grandfather.

It hasn't truly sunk in yet, but I am a grandfather nonetheless. And it is already one of the greatest experiences of my life.

Last Thursday my oldest son called to tell us his wife was officially in labor. Since the due date was not for another 13 days, we felt confident this was just a false alarm. But apparently no one told the baby about the due date.

Around 8:30 p.m. my son called again to say this was the real deal, and the baby would probably be born between 2-4 a.m. the next day. Coincidentally, that would be my daughter-in-law's 30th birthday. He told us to stay home, and when the time came he would call us to make the trip from Norton to Hyannis.

Then at 9:33 p.m. my phone beeped. It was a text message from my Aaron, my son. All it said was "Now!"

I ran to my wife, who is recovering from recent major surgery. I asked if she wanted to go and be there for the blessed event. She teared up and confessed she simply wasn't physically able to make the trip.

My heart ached for her, and I said I would stay home and wait with her. She looked up and said "Go Bill - if the roles were reversed, I'd leave you in a heartbeat for this!"

God, I love that woman. So I jumped in the car and sped off.

As I raced down Route 495 my mind was working overtime. Would it be a boy or a girl? The parents-to-be had chosen to be surprised. Most thought it was going to be a girl. I had steadfastly insisted it was going to be a boy.

I thought back to the night this baby's father was born. He took his sweet time and was three weeks late. My wife's labor with him had been relatively short, and all 9 pounds, 1 ounce of him had come quickly into the world.I remembered that night they handed him to me and said "Here's your son." There are no words to describe that feeling - the wonderment, awe and total joy. And now tonight, my child was going have a child of his own.

My phone rang at 10:14 p.m. It was my daughter-in-law's phone. I nearly drove off the road trying to answer it.It was Aaron. "Hey Dad", he said conversationally. I asked what was happening, and he laughed and said "You want to hear something pretty neat?"

Seconds later I heard the strong cry of a newborn baby, and chills ran down my spine. "That's your new grandchild," Aaron said with pride.

I managed to inquire as to the sex of the baby. My son - who is just way too much like his father - said "I'll tell you when you get here Dad."

I threatened him with grave bodily injury if he did not tell me right away. He laughed and said "Dad, just get here. That's your new grandson."

I asked him to repeat it. When he did, I proceeded to scream "I have a grandson!" as loudly as I could, while also managing to say I knew it would be a boy. I asked for the name, but he said he had to go and would see me in a bit.

When I got there I kissed my son and daughter-in-law, and then Aaron walked me over to the baby."Meet your new grandson" my son beamed. Then he looked at me and said "He's William - William George Thomas Gouveia, named after his grandfathers."

I heard nothing after he said William.

I was speechless (no small feat) and had to sit down. I had a grandson, he was beautiful, and he shared my first name. I was overwhelmed with emotion and love for my child, his wife, and their new baby son.

I have had much happiness in my life, but this moment will be special for as long as I live. I have a grandson, he is healthy and perfect, and all is right with the world.

Did I mention his name is William?

BILL GOUVEIA is a local columnist who - in case you hadn't heard - has a new grandson named William. Grandpa can be reached at aninsidelook@aol.com.

Learning the Election Lingo

2008-03-20T19:10:00.004-04:00

This column originally appeared in the Attleboro Sun Chronicle on Saturday, March 15, 2008.

It is once again election time in the area, and our local communities are gearing up for their annual exercise in democracy.

While voters have been turning out in record numbers for presidential primaries and state elections in recent years, the level of participation in town elections has been much more disappointing. Some of that may have to do with a lack of understanding of the local process as compared to the state and federal elections.

So being the intrepid and fearless local columnist I am, I decided to try and help people better understand politics on the local level.

To that end, I thought I would help explain some common terms used during the local election season that might not be interpreted the same way outside our little area. Those who have been here a while no doubt totally understand them, but those without experience in local election lingo might find this helpful.

Therefore, with tongue planted firmly in cheek, I offer a quick list of local election and governmental terms and their definitions:

CONCERNED CITIZEN’S GROUP – a group of people working towards a political goal you agree with.

SPECIAL INTEREST GROUP – a group of people working towards a political goal you disagree with.

TOWNIE – a person who has lived in a community their entire life or 30 years, whichever is longer.

MEDDLING OUTSIDER – everyone who does not fall into the previous category.

POLITICIAN – someone who spends most of their time claiming not to be a politician.

DEDICATED PUBLIC SERVANT – a politician who is dead, retired, or currently doing what you want.

LEVY LIMIT – the amount of money a community raises from taxation which the state says is enough, the taxpayers say is too much, and the town employees say is too little.

TOWN MANAGER/ADMINISTRATOR – person who gets paid to take the blame when things go wrong, and direct the credit to elected officials when things go right.

COMMITTEE – a group of people formed to slowly beat the life out of all good ideas.

CHAIRMAN – the committee member who arrived late to the first meeting.

MUNICIPAL FINANCE – a system for handling money which contradicts all common sense and normal business practices.

POLITICAL AGENDA – a list of things a politician you do not agree with wants to achieve in office, and that you are determined to stop.

LONG RANGE PLAN – a list of things a politician you agree with wants to achieve in office, and you are determined to help.

TOWN MEETING – a system designed to make citizens think they have some power in order to perpetuate the real system in which they have little.

CANDIDATE’S NIGHT – an evening where politicians running for public office try not to say anything that might make you want to vote against them.

CLEAN CAMPAIGN – an election where both candidates agree to hide each others faults from the public.

OVERRIDE – something used to start and end political careers.

FRIEND – what a politician calls people who worked on his or her campaign.

CONSTITUENT – what a politician calls people who did not work on his or her campaign.

ACTIVIST JUDGE – a judge who issues rulings you disagree with.

PRUDENT JURIST – a judge who issues rulings you agree with.

AD HOC CITIZENS COMMITTEE – this is Latin for “Just Kidding”.

CAMPAIGN PROMISE – when a politician promises to provide something that either already exists, or is impossible to achieve.

LET THE PEOPLE DECIDE – what a politician says when he or she does not want to make a difficult decision on their own and make someone angry.

NEWSPAPER COLUMNIST – very intelligent, good-looking, well-rounded individual highly skilled at pointing out everyone else’s shortcomings.

Any questions? Class dismissed.

Bill Gouveia is – as you might have guessed – a local columnist. You can read his column here every Saturday, and reach him at aninsidelook@aol.com.

Open Meeting Law

2008-03-03T15:15:00.003-05:00

This column originally appeared in the Attleboro Sun Chronicle on Saturday, March 1, 2008.

The Massachusetts Open Meeting Law is one of the most important statutes governing local municipal bodies. But there are serious problems with it that must be addressed.

More and more local governmental committees are subverting the law whenever they decide it suits their purpose. They do so because the advantages they get from their illegal actions outweigh the minimal punishment that accompanies their defiance.

Most problems with the Open Meeting Law lay in its enforcement and penalties. While the public and political pressure brought to bear on offenders may be intense and damaging, the actual price to be paid for violations is generally light and seldom imposed.

A case in point is the recent situation involving the North Attleboro Planning Board. That committee held an illegal executive session in order to discuss the operations of their office away from the prying eyes of the public.

They were called on it and reported to the District Attorney. DA Sam Sutter, elected largely because of his hard-line attitude on prosecutions, confirmed they had broken the law but did little else.

Sutter acknowledged the violation, but praised the board for eventually admitting their mistake and making the minutes of their illegal executive session public.

“The planning board took this action in a timely manner, and the harm caused has been remedied,” Sutter wrote in a letter on the topic.

With all due respect, the DA is absolutely wrong.

The harm caused has in no way been remedied. Reading the minutes from their improper meeting in no way mitigates the damage caused by their illegal actions, nor does it wipe out any advantage they may have gained.

Minutes do not reveal everything said at a meeting. It is more than possible the illegal executive session allowed planning board members to say things they did not want the public to hear. Then they release minutes which in no way reflect those comments, but the discussion may well affect future decisions.

So it is possible the planning board may have intentionally violated the law, accomplished their goal, then apologized and received no punishment.

That is hardly an incentive not to do something similar again. It also does not serve as any kind of deterrent for other officials and boards who may be considering similar actions.

In other words – violating this law and then saying “oops” is often an effective tool.

District Attorneys need to start taking Open Meeting Law offenses much more seriously. The legislature needs to strengthen and toughen the penalties for proven violations in order to discourage those who have learned the law has virtually no teeth.

Until violators start being hit with fines for their actions, situations like this will continue to occur. While no one wants to unnecessarily penalize well-meaning volunteers who give of their time to the community, this law is so important to the integrity of government that something must be done.

Otherwise we will continue to have situations like this and the recent one in Foxboro, where the selectmen and conservation commission appear to have flaunted the Open Meeting Law in a very public way.

As in the North situation, officials in Foxboro may well have already accomplished what they were after. No future apology or pledge to not do it again will negate that advantage or restore the right of the public to free and open meetings.

Will enforcing fines of say $100 per member per violation prevent situations like this in the future? Possibly, but there is no guarantee. At best it may make members think twice before agreeing to violate the trust placed in them.

The Sun Chronicle has reported the alleged violation in Foxboro to Norfolk District Attorney William Keating. What Keating will find and what actions he may take remain to be seen.

The big problem here is not that people do not understand the law, but rather that the advantages gained in violating it are greater than the punishment.

Until that is properly addressed, until district attorneys take violations seriously, the Open Meeting Law will remain more of a suggestion than a requirement for some local officials.

Bill Gouveia is a community columnist and a big fan of the Open Meeting Law. His column appears every Saturday, and he can be reached at aninsidelook@aol.com.

It Takes More Than Barking

2008-02-25T11:43:00.002-05:00

This column originally appeared in the Attleboro Sun Chronicle on Saturday, February 16, 2008.

There is no one single reason why Mansfield is such a political mess these days. In fact, there are many.

But chief among them are the actions and behavior of Selectman George Dentino, the self-proclaimed “watchdog” of Mansfield town government.

Dentino claims to be looking to help solve Mansfield’s problems. If that is true, the first-term selectman has been a dismal failure thus far.

This is not to say Dentino is responsible for the childish, immature and unprofessional mess that is Mansfield’s government today. There is more than enough blame to go around, and enough shoulders on which to heap it.

But while others may have caused many of the difficult problems that plague this town, Dentino is responsible for something arguably worse.

He is preventing them from being properly addressed.

Dentino’s constant showboating at meetings takes up valuable time that should be spent constructively addressing their many pressing problems.

Being a watchdog is great, but if all you do is continuously bark, your value is lessened. A watchdog that runs and gets help is preferable to one who merely makes lots of noise while the home in question is being ransacked.

Dentino has made lots of noise, but accomplished little else. He blames this on his fellow board members and the Town Manager. But his failure to lead effectively is his fault, and he must face that truth.

Dentino is intelligent, articulate and honest. He cares about his town and his fellow citizens, and has a deeply ingrained sense of right, wrong and duty.

But he has yet to master the role of selectman. He seems to think it is about finding fault, assessing blame, and publicly scolding those responsible.

He is wrong.

A good selectman keeps his or her eye on the big picture. As a local leader, your goal must always be to make government work for the benefit of the citizens and taxpayers. That means getting results as a board, not individually.

In no way does this mean unethical or illegal conduct must be condoned or accepted. But it does mean adapting your personal style in order to be effective.

Dentino has succeeded in calling attention to himself and pointing out mistakes. He has also done an amazing job of alienating and angering the other four selectmen, who he needs in order to get any real change accomplished.

But he hasn’t made Mansfield better. He hasn’t brought about serious, lasting change. He hasn’t been willing or able to set aside his considerable ego and form the consensus necessary to achieve true reform.

Dentino constantly harps on issues in order to advance his goal of getting rid of the town manager. He asks public questions not to get answers, but to embarrass the administration. He seems more interested in making his point than solving the town’s problems.

Though supporters love his style, Dentino needs to learn to become at least as effective as he is abrasive. He needs to place substance above show. He and his colleagues need to learn to respect each other in order to cooperatively work for the betterment of the community.

Is Mansfield’s town government better or worse today than it was before George Dentino was elected? That is a matter of opinion and great debate.

But clearly things are bad right now, and there is no indication they are going to get better anytime soon. Some of the fault for that has to land in Dentino’s lap.

It’s not that Dentino is always wrong. He quite often brings up valid points worthy of discussion and action.

But his grandstanding and public inquisitions have to stop. The attempts at public embarrassment need to come to an end.

The sad thing is, Dentino possesses the talent, ability and desire to bring about necessary change in Mansfield. He just chooses not to do it.

“I’m a minority voice. That’s the way it’s been. I just live with it,” Dentino said recently.

Maybe he can live with it, but the people of Mansfield shouldn’t have to suffer for it.

Enough with the petty politics and political showmanship. Get down to the real business of government, and do it in a professional manner. Mansfield’s citizens deserve nothing less.

Bill Gouveia is a community columnist who has been known to bark a little himself. He can be reached at aninsidelook@aol.com.

Just a Game? Like Hell!

2008-02-10T08:49:00.000-05:00

This column originally appeared in the Attleboro Sun Chronicle on Saturday, February 9th, 2008.

I was relatively okay this week after watching my beloved Patriots fall to the New York Giants in the Super Bowl.

Then I read my friend Mark Farinella’s sports column in the Sun Chronicle on Wednesday. On top of everything else, that was enough to send me over the edge.

In said column, Mark advises all Patriot fans to “get a grip”. He decries the reaction of many of us to the devastating loss, and tells us all to get some perspective. He notes winning the game would not have fed the hungry, lowered our taxes, or meant a cure for cancer.

“It’s just a football game, people” Farinella’s prose relates.

Well, I have some equally good advice to my buddy who I covered local sports with more than 30 years ago:

Get over yourself, Mark.

I just love it when the sports media – both regional and national – gets on their high horse and tells all us lowly and ignorant sports fans we are taking these games too seriously. I find their preaching to be the height of hypocrisy.

These nice folks make their living covering games and athletic events. They are only able to do this because people like me care deeply about sports.

Without passionate and even obsessive sports fans, sportswriters would have no reason to do what they do. Without the dedication of this sports-crazed nation, Farinella might find himself covering local selectmen’s meetings and the annual gathering of the Chartley Garden Club.

We devout (okay, somewhat crazed) sports fans know full well the result of the Super Bowl plays no part in the lowering of our taxes, the security of our nation, or the well-being of our brave soldiers. We may not be as smart and worldly as some sportswriters, but we have figured that out.

There is no excuse for anyone to abuse their spouse, their pet, or themselves over a sporting contest – or anything else, for that matter. People who cross the line of acceptable behavior like that, regardless of the reason, need serious help.

And there is no reason for ignorant jerks to write threatening and insulting comments to sportswriters over what they have written or reported. Mark was right in blasting those who wrote such comments about Mansfield native John Tomase’s recent story in a Boston paper.

But sportswriters spend a lot of their time and energy trying to get us involved in the saga of our local franchises. They cover their every move, report on everything they do from preseason to the playoffs, and often delve into the personal lives of the players. They seek to make us care, become invested.

So when they then start preaching about misplaced priorities, it seems a bit disingenuous.

I read Mark Farinella because he is an excellent sports columnist. His understanding of the game, his style, and the way he relates to his readership make his columns interesting and informative.

But does Mark really want us all to become Los Angeles sports fans? Does he want everyone to leave Fenway Park in the seventh inning to beat the traffic? Following the loss, should we have had a parade for the Pats anyway, with signs that said “We don’t care if you lost”?

Good sportswriters take pride in being objective professional reporters rather than just fans. That is as it should be.

But for those professionals to look down their noses at sports fans and smugly remind them “it’s only a game” is irritating and insulting.

We know it’s a game – we are the people who make it possible. Without us shelling out our hard-earned dollars for expensive seats, exorbitant parking fees, outrageous cable television packages and overpriced souvenirs and memorabilia, these games would be played only in schoolyards.

Without us crazies, there would be no need for haughty sportswriters who like to think they somehow have a better perspective on life than we do.

So get over yourself, my friend. All I kicked this weekend was some perfectly innocent furniture.

This was not “just a football game”, it was much more than that. And remember – when we stop caring, you’ll stop working.

Bill Gouveia is a 34-year Patriot season ticket-holder and a certified sports nut, who happens to write a local column. He can be reached at aninsidelook@aol.com.

Chapter 40B Housing

2008-01-30T09:50:00.000-05:00

This column originally appeared in the Attleboro Sun Chronicle on Saturday, January 26th, 2008.

For years now Norton town officials have been at the forefront of the fight to change Chapter 40B, the state’s affordable housing law.

They tried going to the legislature, rallying other communities, and even pressed their case in court. In the end, they achieved relief from the tough law the old-fashioned way:

They earned it.

For those unfamiliar, Chapter 40B exempts builders from local planning and zoning laws if they build housing with at least 25-percent classified as affordable. The rest can be sold or rented at market prices. But these rules only apply in communities where less than 10-percent of all housing is affordable.

Barring a late appeal, Norton will achieve the magical 10-percent threshold when the 176-unit Turtle Crossing apartment development is built.

That means developers will no longer be able to come to Norton and put too many homes on too little land to make too much money while helping not enough people. That is, until the building of new homes puts the town back under 10-percent.

It would be nice to think Norton achieved this goal out of a real desire to help its citizens live affordably. But the truth is Norton has greatly increased its level of affordable housing because of Chapter 40B, not despite it.

In other words, the bottom line is – this law works.

The very phrase “affordable housing” causes tremors throughout most local communities. It is often confused with “low-income housing”, when in fact they are two very different things.

Low-income housing is government subsidized housing intended for the poorer people in our society. Far too often it creates “projects” where people who either cannot get jobs or refuse to do so are housed.

There are sociological and racial overtones to low-income housing, both in real life and in the minds of much of the citizenry. Fair or unfair, true or false, the perceptions are at least as strong as the realities.

But affordable housing merely is an attempt to allow some relief for the mythical middle class. In many local towns, our children move out because they cannot afford to live in the communities where they grew up.

Affordable housing means they can purchase or rent at prices below the existing market. This is not intended as a hand-out, but rather a start. It is meant to create opportunities, not projects.

But developers cannot and should not be asked to create these opportunities out of the goodness of their hearts. While often pictured as greedy and soulless businesspeople – sometimes accurately – the fact is they have families to support too. They are in business to make money.

Communities often increase the minimum lot size to build a home within their borders to as much as two acres. Then when the developer builds a million dollar home to offset the increased land cost, they bemoan the effect it has on the tax rate and property values.

You can’t have it both ways.

Chapter 40B is despised by most area towns because it takes away their control. There are most definitely parts of the law that are unfair and distasteful.

But towns that have worked hard and made sure they have at least 10-percent affordable housing are exempt. Chapter 40B is a law they can avoid simply by doing what the law was intended to do – create affordable housing.

Almost everyone is in favor of affordable housing. But most don’t want to see it in their neighborhood. They always seem to think there is a “better place” for it.

Norton is no different. Many of the 40B developments in town have faced fierce opposition, almost all of it from the neighborhood where it was planned. Selectmen, zoning and planning board members and other officials have faced tremendous pressure and criticism.

But Norton didn’t just complain – it complied. The town worked with developers in an example of the public/private partnerships Chapter 40B was meant to create.

What this achieved is a better town, with more affordable housing, that has now regained control over development.

Not a bad result for a law no one seems to like.

Bill Gouveia is a local columnist and a life-long resident of Norton. He can be reached at aninsidelook@aol.com.

Great Time for New England Sports

2008-01-07T16:32:00.000-05:00

This column originally appeared in the Attleboro Sun Chronicle on Saturday, January 5th, 2008.

As I sat in Giants Stadium last Saturday night with my son, I made sure to imprint the sights and sounds of this game in my mind forever.

After all, how often do you get to witness perfection up close?

I was a part of history last weekend as I sat high in the New Jersey night air, watching the New England Patriots complete the first ever 16-0 undefeated season in NFL history. It marks the first undefeated regular season since the 1972 Miami Dolphins.

Those Dolphins won their 14 regular season games and then swept three in the playoffs. To match that incredible feat the Pats will have to win their three playoff games, starting next weekend in Foxboro.

You have read about this amazing season from virtually everyone and every viewpoint by now. Every sportswriter and sportscaster in the country has weighed in on the Pats and their chances to join the Dolphins in immortality.

So please allow me to add another viewpoint – that of a lifelong Patriot fan, a season ticket-holder for 34 years, and someone who has brought his sons up to be certifiable sports fanatics.

In general, we Boston sports fans are a spoiled bunch right now. We have gotten used to success, and not just in one sport.

When I was growing up in the 60’s, the Celtics won the NBA Championship virtually every year. We took those great teams for granted. It was easy to be blasé about the greatness we were witnessing.

Today, the Red Sox have won two World Series titles in four years, after an 86 year drought. The Celtics have the best record in the NBA. The Patriots have won three Super Bowls in the last six years, and are favored to win yet another. They are on their way to what could be a perfect championship season.

I was going to Fenway Park when the Red Sox couldn’t get out of the bottom half of the league. I actually attended Patriot games at Fenway, and then spent the better part of three decades sitting on those ice-cold aluminum benches in the old Schaeffer/Sullivan/Foxboro Stadium watching some of the worst football the league has ever seen.

I tell you that not to sound old, but to illustrate why I am so appreciative of the situation we fans find ourselves in today.

The younger generation of Boston sports fans think we have a championship parade every two or three years at least. They go to a football stadium that is state-of-the-art in every way. They watch as their teams are in contention for the championship virtually every season.

It is not always like this, folks.

We are in the Golden Age of New England sports history. We are witnessing it first-hand. We are actually watching things take place that will be talked about by generations of sports fans who follow us.

We need to be aware of the history unfolding, and appreciate it while it is happening.

It is quite possible what is going on right now may never again occur in our lifetime. The stars have aligned, both on the playing fields and in the sky. This is a solar eclipse, followed by a lunar eclipse, followed by Haley’s Comet, followed by the Republicans controlling the Massachusetts Legislature. This is a totally unusual place in time.

So don’t just enjoy it, fellow sports fans – immerse yourselves in it. Go overboard, jump in with both feet, and totally commit yourselves to the great teams we have to enjoy these days.

Take your kids to ballgames or watch with them and explain what it is they are seeing. They may not get the full impact now, but later on they will tell their kids how they watched the great undefeated Patriot team of 2007. They will look back upon this time with a fondness only experience can bring.

Right now, the Patriots are perfect. And today is the perfect time for us all to make sure we fully experience and live the history unfolding all around us.

Bill Gouveia, who has never been accused of perfection, is a local columnist who can be reached at aninsidelook@aol.com.

Appreciating Freedom

2008-01-03T14:46:00.000-05:00

This column appeared in the Attleboro Sun Chronicle on Saturday, December 29th, 2007.

As we head into 2008, there is something happening that scares me.

No, I’m not talking about the Yankees possibly signing Santana, or Rosie O’Donnell getting another show of her own. I’m talking about the truly scary stuff – like what today’s younger generation is prepared to sacrifice in the name of safety and security.

Increasingly the current administration in Washington has told us we need to sacrifice our individual liberties to ensure our collective security. We must be willing to forgo protections built into our system for the innocent in order to catch and prosecute the guilty.

We are told we must keep the Patriot Act, under which the government can investigate and detain just about anyone for just about any reason. We must accept that our library records may be studied by the government without our knowledge or consent.

There are an increasing number of surveillance cameras in our local school buildings. Police dogs are brought in to search local school lockers just to let the kids know it can happen. Breathalyzers are used indiscriminately at proms.

And yet, there is no great outrage among the younger generation – or the older ones, for that matter.

In this post September 11th world, we have come to accept these things as necessary to provide for our safety and security. Like longer lines at the airport, they are just things we seem to feel we must endure.

But I worry every day, not about what our government is doing to us, but rather what we are allowing it to do. I worry about a growing generation seemingly out of touch with the true meaning of freedom.

Freedom is not the right to live safely or securely. Freedom is the right to live as you choose.

While we all must conform to the basic laws of society in order to function, America has always been the Land of the Free. We are not the Home of the Safe, The Land of the Efficient, or the Home of the Financially Responsible.

The government does not – or at least did not – track our whereabouts at all times. Unlike other countries we have no state-sponsored religion. Morality is something to be interpreted here, where in other countries it is simply enforced.

Keeping track of our enemies, as well as those we think could become our enemies, is much tougher here than in the rest of the world. That damn concept of “freedom” keeps getting in the way.

Now, I am not naïve enough to believe things don’t have to change as the world around us changes. Security is certainly a necessity. Freedom is great, but a free individual who is murdered does not get to enjoy it for long.

Still, I worry about what our younger generation locally believes is their role in this world of ours today.

I know when I was growing up, we questioned everything. We not only pushed existing beliefs in areas such as science, we also questioned the rules surrounding us as a nation.

Maybe I’m just getting old and crabby, but I see less of that today. I see young adults who think it is no big deal for the government to check their library records. After all, if you have nothing to hide, why should it bother you, right?

Wrong. It should bother you, it should make you angry, and it should scare the living you-know-what out of you.

You can call all this the wild rantings of an aging liberal (as my kids do), but I disagree. If we have gotten to the point where defending freedom and liberty is a political position, we are already in more trouble than we think.

In 1776 Benjamin Franklin told the Continental Congress “They who would give up an essential liberty for temporary security deserve neither liberty or security.”

Old Ben was right on the mark then, and remains correct today. I’m just hoping today’s younger generation pays him more heed than the older ones are currently doing.

Bill Gouveia is a local columnist who, contrary to popular belief, did not know Benjamin Franklin personally. He can be reached at aninsidelook@aol.com.

That Political Town

2007-12-07T11:57:00.000-05:00

This column appeared int he Attleboro Sun Chronicle on November 24th, 2007.

AN INSIDE LOOK
By Bill Gouveia

Tell people from outside this area you are from Norton, you generally get a slightly quizzical smile. Until you mention either Wheaton College or the Great Woods PGA golf course, they usually have no idea where you live.

Mention Norton to people from this area, you get a different reaction. You can see a knowing, almost sympathetic look come over their faces as they prepare to cut you some slack due to your obviously disadvantaged background.

Norton is known as a political hotbed of a town. We are recognized far and wide for our tightness with a tax dollar. But primarily, Norton is known for wild politics, colorful characters, and a penchant for fighting amongst ourselves.

For most of the last 50 years, Norton has entertained its neighbors with politics startling in both directness and openness. If it happens in Norton, it seems everyone knows about it.

If there has been an official sport in town, it has been assessing blame. And we are good at it.

As former selectman Raymond Patenaude once noted in a light-hearted moment, “If Norton had a town physician, it would be Dr. Kevorkian.”

But I’m here to tell you Norton is a very misunderstood community. The truth is Norton and its leaders have set an example over the years of just how to keep local government open and transparent.

Our people aren’t anymore ornery than those in any surrounding town. They just feel comfortable expressing themselves within the framework of the local government.

In Norton, there is no such thing as dirty laundry – only laundry. While other towns discreetly hang their political unmentionables out to dry in private, Norton puts its right out in the backyard for everyone to see.

Norton has few well-known attractions within its borders. Unlike its neighbors, Norton has no shopping mall, no movie theater, no big public park. Many believe unless you live in town, there is almost never a reason to go there.

But they are wrong.

Norton has changed over the years. It is no longer the sleepy little suburb to Attleboro. Norton is an eclectic collection of families and individuals, professionals and blue-collar workers, who live there for the simplest of reasons: They like it.

Despite financial problems, Norton’s schools remain among the areas best. The town’s fire and rescue department has long been an innovative leader in the state.

In the last decade or so Norton has enticed such prestigious companies as General Motors and Bodek & Rhodes to settle within its borders. The PGA course in town has made Norton the golfing capital of New England.

You haven’t lived until you have had a Downtown Café pizza, a great dinner at the Chateau Restaurant, a hot dog at the Hot Dog Stand, or walked the trails through the Great Woods. Norton is home to one of the finest over-55 housing developments in the country, and the relatively low tax rate (natives will scoff at that description) continues to make it a desirable place to own a home.

While Norton folks know how to fight and argue, they have an even greater capacity for coming together in a crisis. You need look no further than the recent tragedy concerning the Cann family for an example of how generous, loving and caring the people of Norton truly are. We take care of our own.

Norton has indoor plumbing, we don’t marry our cousins, we aren’t all stuck in the past, and we’re not so tight we squeak. Maybe we’re a bit more politically boisterous than some, but is that really so bad?

Ok, so our Planning Board approved permits for chickens in residential zones but won’t allow the Dunkin Donuts in the center of town a drive-thru. And it is true there is only one traffic light in the entire town. And yes, there was a McDonald’s in Moscow before we got one in Norton. Hey, nobody’s perfect.

But Norton is a great place to live and raise a family. And if being known as “that political town” is the price we pay to be that, we can live with it.

Bill Gouveia is a local columnist and a third generation Nortonian (is that a word?). He can be reached at aninsidelook@aol.com.

Police Chief Appointment Coming

2007-11-06T15:10:00.001-05:00

Norton Town Manager Jim Purcell will appoint a new Police Chief in the next couple of weeks, and only one thing is for certain - it will be one of the applicants from within the current department.

Of course, that is because only current department members were allowed to apply. Afraid to buck Civil Service and the politically active police officers and firefighters, Norton selectmen caved and did the easier thing by keeping the appointment local.

Because of that, we are guaranteed our next Chief will have no experience as a police chief. That is not to say the current candidates are not qualified, or will not do a good job. It is simply recognizing a fact - this was a rigged appointment process that can only result in one of the current officers getting the job.

Supporters of this system will say this is necessary to "keep the politics out" of the process. But that is a load of crap. That will be proven by the political fallout over the appointment, whoever it is.

Appointing a new chief will always be political, regardless of how you do it. Despite the best efforts of the Town Manager, this remains a political appointment as well as a professional hiring. And no matter who is chosen, you will hear grumblings about who got it, why they got it, and who favored who. It's just the way it is.

It is a shame this job could not be advertised in a way that qualified, experienced candidates from across the state could have applied had they chosen to do so. Then, if one of the current department officers had gotten the job, no one could say it was because the pool of applicants was artificially limited.

It will be interesting to see who is hired this week, and if there are any appeals of the process.

Red Sox - Champions Once Again!

2007-11-01T13:41:00.000-04:00

I can't honestly say it had the same intensity as the last time in 2004 - but the Boston Red Sox are once again the World Series Champions, and it's a pretty sweet deal.

In 2004 the Sox won it for people like my grandfather, who went most of his life without seeing his beloved hometown team take the title. They won it for the older fans who had spent decades rooting for them, but never reaching the Promised Land.

This year, the Sox won it for the younger folks - the people of Red Sox Nation. This was an EXPECTED World Series win, something that would have been totally unheard of just four years previous. They were supposed to do it, they were favored to do it - and they did it.

The emotion of this great victory was different from 2004, but no less sincere. In essence, the Red Sox are becoming the Patriots of baseball. We now expect excellence from them - no, we demand it. There are no more "nice try" situations. They have proven they can do it, and now it is expected.

This was a great team, and hopefully the Sox management can keep much of it intact. Signing Mike Lowell would be a great step in that direction. Initially, I was in favor of pursuing Alex Rodriguex, undoubtedly the most skilled player in the game today. But I have come around to believing this Sox team would be better off with the quiet leadership of Lowell than the circus that is A-Rod.

And how about Terry Francona? He is so underrated and under-appreciated around here. The job he did this past season was sensational, and the fact he is 8-0 in World Series play says it all. He is the best Red Sox manager in history, and deserves to be paid and recognized as such.

So the Sox are World Champs: The Patriots are undefeated and rolling: Boston College is ranked Number 2 in the country: The Celtics are ready to open their season with three legitimate superstars: It doesn't get a whole lot better than this.

Life is good, sportsfans. Enjoy it while it lasts.

Mansfield Recall is Personal for TM

2007-10-25T09:39:00.000-04:00

This is my first column for the Attleboro Sun Chronicle. It appeared on October 13th, 2007.

Recall elections are messy, difficult, emotional affairs. I know – I organized one in my hometown 15 years ago.

In most communities, the allowable reasons for recalling elected officials are purposefully vague. They generally do not require the target(s) be found guilty of anything.

Two Mansfield selectmen face a recall election next month that is really much less about them than about the current Town Manager. To be sure, their role in a court case where the town was found guilty of discriminating against an employee has raised questions about their competence and integrity. But the true focus of the recall is not on them.

The Mansfield recall boils down to a referendum on Town Manager John D’Agostino. Despite recall proponent claims their goal is more accountability in town government, any objective review of the situation clearly reveals this is all about getting rid of one man.

You want facts? Well, there are lots of them in this campaign. There are depositions, affidavits, court rulings, letters, meeting minutes and other documents and oral histories that present a clear indication of only one thing:

This is a real mess in Mansfield.

All recalls – even the most valid ones – are inevitably about politics at their core. While some may seek recall to right perceived wrongs by their officials, just as many take advantage of the process simply to promote their own political agendas and points of view. It’s just the way it is.

The average length of service for a Town Manager in Massachusetts is three to five years. John D’Agostino has been in Mansfield for the better part of a decade now. There are many advantages to serving in a position like this for such a long time, but there are also distinct disadvantages.

You cannot manage a community the size of Mansfield for ten years and not make political enemies. No matter what decision you make on a particular issue, you are bound to alienate someone. The longer your time in office, the longer the list. D’Agostino’s list contains some unique Mansfield personalities.

D’Agostino said recently “All I want…is to be able to manage this town.” As time goes by, this seems less and less likely to occur.

If as Town Manager you yourself become the main focus and top political issue in a community, managing effectively becomes next to impossible. It may be your fault, or it may be caused by circumstances beyond your control. In the end, it makes no difference.

D’Agostino may find he is desperately seeking to hold on to a job he can no longer effectively do. When the majority of your time and resources are spent defending yourself rather than doing your job, you and the community suffer.

If Selectmen Amoruso and McCarter are removed, the objective of recall supporters will only be partially met. Their goal is not just to remove the two selectmen, but to also get people in who will vote to get D’Agostino out.

This is a nasty recall campaign. It has gotten personal as well as political. With the terms of both Amoruso and McCarter up this May, their opponents could have waited until then to try and get them off the board, saving the town the expense and the emotional turmoil of a recall campaign. But they saw a political edge to be gained here, and are taking full advantage.

Had D’Agostino moved on of his own volition months ago, would this recall be going forward? Mansfield voters should ask themselves that question before casting their ballots.

There is a method for getting rid of elected officials who become unpopular in office. It is called “Voting them out when their term ends”. That should be the preferred method of removing officials, with recall reserved for the most severe of circumstances.

There will no doubt be losers in next month’s Mansfield recall election. The real question is: Will there truly be any winners?

SportsTown USA

2007-10-10T14:02:00.000-04:00

Yes Ladies and Gentlemen, this is SportsTown USA. Welcome to New England, the Sports Capital of the known universe!

The Red Sox are in the ALCS on their way to their second World Series title in just four years. The Patriots are undefeated and favored to win their 4th Super Bowl Championship in the last seven years. The Celtics are suddenly the up-and-coming NBA franchise with the addition of Kevin Garnett and are favored to win the East. And the Bruins - well, three out of four ain't bad.

If you are a true sports fan, this is the time you live for. It doesn't get any better than this. The baseball season is reaching its climax, the football season is well underway, and basketball is almost ready to tip-off. And everywhere you look, our guys are right i n the thick of it.

The Sox have the best pitching in baseball, as well as the best 1-2 hitting punch since Ruth and Gehrig. The Patriots have the best quarterback in the game, and the guy they got for a 4th round draft-pick is leading the league in receiving. The Celtics have three bonafide superstars in their starting line-up for the first time since the Big Three in the 1980's.

Life is good.

This is why we stay up until 2:00 am watching mid-season baseball games on the West Coast. This is the payback for suffering through 2-14 football seasons. This is why we agonized over the Celtic draft postion all this spring. This is the reward for being what we so obviously are:

The best damn sports fans in the world.

We in New England, while certainly suffering from our own peculiar and particular traits, understand what sports is really all about. We know this is what makes our lives so great, aside from all that "family" stuff. We are fans who live and die with our teams, and our worlds revolve on the sporting world axis.

We can bitch and moan about our guys all year long, but we know we will be there for them when they need us. We can kill J.D. Drew for 6 months, then root unbelievably hard for him in the final 30 days. Our interest doesn't end with the season, we don't care about beating the traffic by leaving the stadium early. This is our time - we live it to the fullest.

So enjoy, New England. These things do not happen all that often. The Sporting Gods do not always smile down at us the way they are currently beaming. This is the good times - don't let them pass you by without taking full advantage.

Making a Change

2007-10-04T11:21:00.000-04:00

It is with many mixed emotions that, after almost ten years, I am leaving as a columnist for the Norton Mirror.

As of October 13th 2007 I will be writing a weekly column for the Attleboro Sun Chronicle. The Sun Chronicle is the area's largest daily newspaper, and one of the best and most recognized daily papers in the state. I am pleased and proud to be joining them as a columnist, and I look forward to establishing a relationship with their vast number of readers.

Leaving the weekly Mirror, and the sister papers Mansfield News and Easton Journal, was a difficult thing to do. However, the business side of this business sometimes rears its ugly head. I will miss the fine people at these papers, and I thank them for the opportunity they have given me over the years to make my views known.

I will continue to post here, both past columns and my various musings and ramblings. I hope you will continue to read me both here and at the Sun Chronicle, and I thank you for doing so.

Camping

2007-09-28T10:51:00.000-04:00

This column originally appeared in the Norton Mirror in August of 2001.

Every August my wife and children engage in the annual masochistic exercise they refer to as “camping”. And because they love and adore me, they always ask me to share in it and be a part of their wilderness bonding experience.

Thus it was that last week I trudged up to the barrenness of North Monmouth, Maine – God’s country, where instead of “Do Not Litter” the street signs say “Watch For Moose in Road”. As part of a group of 40 or so friends who annually take this trek, we rented the usual campsite on the shore of some impossible-to-spell lake and settled in for a week of natural bliss.

Unlike my wife and kids I find nothing natural about this “camping” thing. In fact, I find it to be quite unnatural. It is difficult to understand why people with perfectly comfortable beds at home would want to travel hundreds of miles to sleep on the ground inside a canvas structure with walls so thin you can now hear seven people snoring instead of just one.

I am not a wilderness scout. My idea of roughing it on a trip is when the hotel has no room service after midnight. Sure, I can appreciate the natural beauty of a still lake surrounded by mountains with the sun glistening off it and slowly sinking beyond the horizon. I just would much rather appreciate its beauty from the deck of my well-appointed chalet than from the rickety folding chair that rusts all winter long in my cellar.

And the whole bathroom thing is a real drag. I must be missing the Daniel Boone gene, because I get no particular primitive pleasure from urinating in the woods. When nature calls in the middle of the night (and at my age it seems to be dropping in more often) I don’t enjoy getting up, getting dressed, grabbing a flashlight and walking five minutes to get to what some sick, sadistic campground owner has dubbed “The Comfort Station.”

Comfort my foot. Three toilets, three sinks, a couple of urinals and a questionable shower with a slot where you must put in a quarter is hardly my idea of comfort. Stepping out of the shower and taking the sink between the 300-pound bearded and tattooed motorcycle gentleman and the smiling elderly man with the “I’m Retired – And Loving It” t-shirt is not my idea of a great start to the morning.

And while camping may be a beautiful experience when the sun is shining, it is something a bit less than that when the weather decides not to cooperate. One year my wife told me to dig a trench around our tent so that if it rained, the water would have someplace to run. So I dutifully dug the trench, under her watchful and expert eye.

And sure enough, the rains came. And it rained so hard, and for so long, that I expected to see Noah at the site next door. And my well-constructed trench? Forget it – I could have dug a full-fledged moat and it would not have made a damn bit of difference. Our tent collapsed, our sleeping bags were soaked, our clothes threatened to float away.

My wife asked me to hold up the center aluminum pole of the tent while she emptied our soaked belongings into the car. As I stood in a huge puddle of water, holding up the aluminum pole and watching the lightning illuminate the sky, it occurred to me there might possibly be a better way to spend my vacation.

Of course, the people do make it fun. And there is the evenings spent around the campfire, drinking and telling stories. It doesn’t exactly make me forget the constant longing I feel for my big screen TV and ESPN, but it is fun.

One night the big entertainment for the camping group was to lay out on the beach at night and watch shooting stars. I tried it – I really did. But after three or four times of hearing “Oh look – there’s a good one” followed by a chorus of ooohhs and aaahhs, I had to get up and leave.

They found me hours later, sitting in the seat of my car. I had the radio tuned to the Red Sox game, the Patriots preseason game barely showing up on a battery-operated TV, and reading by the light of a lantern hanging on the door.

Now they only ask me up for a day or two. It’s better that way.

The Purple Door

2007-09-24T22:53:00.000-04:00

Early on in the relationship you are the Man of the House, the King of your Castle, the head of your family.

Then you come home one day, and your front door is purple. And now the world knows what you in your heart have known for some time. The King is dead. Long live the Queen.

Although most of my friends and acquaintances say it happened many years ago, for me official confirmation of my demise as pretender to the throne of my household came this weekend. Up until Sunday afternoon I was clinging to the pretense of power, putting up a solid front for the rest of the world. But now the symbol of my emasculation is emblazoned upon the front of my once revered domicile – that damn purple door.

It began last week, when my wife asked me (in that sly way that wives pretend to ask) what I thought about changing the color of the front door to our house. I reacted in typical male fashion. I told her there was nothing wrong with the color it was now, that I liked that color, and I did not want it to change. In my mind, thus endeth the discussion.

Then she asked me a trick question. She asked me what color our front door was. I scoffed at her ridiculous question, ignoring her knowing smile. I hemmed, I hawed, but she was not to be denied. I was finally forced to admit that I had no idea what color the front door of the house I have lived in for almost 14 years truly was. Damn those tricky females.

Despite this setback, I was adamant that the color not be changed. She said it was time to change it, and suggested black or purple. She says our house is grey, although the name of the paint color is Federal Blue. She said black would look good, but purple would really look wonderful.

I knew this was the time to stand firm. I said I did not agree, I thought the red (remember – red, I told myself) was the best color. I emphatically stated I did not like either black or purple, and would not grant my consent to such a drastic and outlandish change. It was out of the question, a bad idea, and I would not grant my needed agreement.

My wife looked at me in disgust, and told me I had no taste. It has been the same color for 14 years, she tried to reason with me. It will look classy and you’ll really like it when it’s done, she went on hopefully.

But it was no use. I felt like General Custer the night before Little Big Horn. I was calm, I was cool, and I was confident. The answer was no. Of course, I was smart enough not to state it as an order or an ultimatum. After all, 26 years of marriage had to teach me something.

My wife seemed to take it well. She shook her head, looked a little angry, but went on to bigger and better things. I swaggered off savoring the heady taste of my small victory, secure in the knowledge my red door was safe.

Then came the weekend, and work took me out of town. I talked to my wife several times while I was gone, and she couldn’t have been nicer. I was cautiously optimistic there would be no after-effects from the firm stand I had taken in turning her down flat.

Then Sunday afternoon I got home, turned my car into the driveway, and stopped short. There, glaring down at me like a maniacal giant jar of jelly, was my newly-painted purple front door. It was mocking me, and I knew in my heart I deserved it.

Oh, I went in and made the rather pointless complaints. I asked her why she painted the door after I said no. Her answer was simple and complete.

“I told you I wanted to do it”, she said.

I’m now telling people the purple door was my idea.

Debt Exclusion loses at polls

2007-09-18T22:44:00.000-04:00

It was close – but close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.

Town officials now may have to take a hand grenade to the town budget following the defeat of a $1.9 million debt exclusion designed to fund repairs to the Middle School and Yelle School. The controversial question failed by a mere 68 votes, with 2090 in favor and 2158 opposed.

Although the override passed in three of the town’s five precincts, that was not enough to win the day. Buoyed by a 461-316 margin in Precinct 3, the “No” side won a hard-earned political victory and avoided a temporary tax hike that would have lasted eight years and cost the average taxpayer about $36 annually.

Anyone who doubts Norton is a town divided need only look at this vote. About 40 percent of voters, some 4252 of them, turned out to decide the immediate financial future of their community. They were just about completely split down the middle, and their visions of this town’s future could not be more diametrically opposed.

If you are a young, professional couple with small children in the school system – you are probably reaching for the real estate ads today. And frankly, I don’t blame you.

This community’s school system will continue to slide and suffer next year, as it has for the last several. The police and fire departments will continue to have glaring needs unfunded. The capital needs of the town will continue to be postponed, delayed and ignored.

But worse – there is absolutely no reason to believe it is going to get any better in the foreseeable future.

It is impossible to miss the message sent by the voters on Tuesday. They simply refuse to pay any more in property taxes, regardless of the reason. They neither trust nor believe their town officials, and there is nothing short of refusing to raise taxes those officials can do to satisfy them.

This question was not decided on its merits. The need was extremely well documented. The town’s objective financial advisors strongly recommended its passage. It was a temporary tax increase, with a relatively low impact on even the community’s least affluent taxpayers.

To the “No” voters, this was essentially a matter of principle. They voted to uphold the letter and the spirit of Proposition 2-1/2, consequences be damned. They believe the money for these repairs can come out of the existing budget, and they either do not believe the resulting cuts will be devastating or they simply do not care.

As long as they are in the majority – and clearly they are – this town will not be financially able to address its most critical problems. From this moment on, the focus of town officials must stop being on making things better in Norton. Instead, they must concentrate on simply making them survivable.

It is now up to the town’s leaders to give the voters the kind of town they have chosen to become.

The people clearly want cuts over more taxes. They think the town spends too much money, and spends it unwisely. They want fiscal restraint. There can be no doubt that on Tuesday, they voted for budget cuts.

So give them those cuts. Don’t cut for effect, don’t make cuts designed to deliberately make things worse than they are. But don’t avoid the devastating cuts we have skipped around for years. Give the people what they chose.

We are about to enter a dark chapter in our town’s long history. You can call that doom and gloom if you want, but I have another phrase for it: The truth. And we have nobody to blame for it but ourselves.

Bill takes on the NO Folks

2007-09-14T14:00:00.000-04:00

The link below will take you to the An Inside Look page of the Norton Community Television website. Click on the latest show (September 12) and listen and watch what Bill has to say about the upcoming debt exclusion and how the campaign has been handled thus far.

http://www.nortontv.org/insidelook.htm

Mansfield Selectmen Need Dope-Slap

2007-09-14T13:35:00.001-04:00

This column appeared in the September 14th edition of the Mansfield News.

I have a suggestion for a new motto for the Mansfield Board of Selectmen. It should be inscribed on a banner and hung on the wall in their meeting room. The sign should read:

“If we can’t win the game – we’ll just change the rules.”

Changing their positions more often than Senator Larry Craig, the Mansfield board continues to put on a clinic of how not to act as a responsible governmental body. They continue to ignore the major problems that threaten to tear this community apart, instead concentrating on correcting the annoying habits of those who continue to irritate them.

Recently the board’s actions hit the height of absurdity when they voted to change their rules concerning members’ casting votes. In a move specifically aimed at maverick selectman George Dentino, the majority of selectmen voted to require any member who abstains to explain his or her reason for doing so. Dentino has often abstained during votes of the board.

The vote on the new policy was 4-0-1. Dentino, in a beautiful piece of political gamesmanship, abstained. You have to chuckle at that move.

But it is the actions of the four majority members that are truly laughable. While they seek and demand accountability from Dentino, they continue to ignore calls for more accountability from them to the people who really matter – the voters and taxpayers of Mansfield.

This is not to make a martyr out of Dentino. His votes are often self-serving, designed more to draw attention more than to actually solve problems. But his fellow board members continue to fall into the political trap laid for them by Dentino and others, and they show no signs of wising up anytime soon.

Faced with growing anger from at least a small group of citizens over the recent jury verdict against the town, selectmen have totally melted down. For two weeks they hid behind their elected offices, refusing to allow the public to ask questions at their meetings citing their inability to discuss all aspects of the case.

They initially discussed blocking a recall effort generated by citizens before allowing it to continue. They continue to tell people everything they cannot do, when all people want to know is just what it is they actually are doing.

Memo to the majority board members: You are allowing yourselves to be played, and it is hurting both you and the town.

Let’s be realistic here. This recall and political upheaval in town right now is all about one thing: Getting rid of Town Manager John D’Agostino.

Whether there exist sufficient grounds for firing D’Agostino is certainly debatable. But that topic will be debated throughout this community whether selectmen acknowledge it or not. Ignoring it as if it were the pink elephant in the corner does no one, least of all the Board of Selectmen, any good.

Trying to get back at Dentino by changing the rules on abstentions is like responding to the horrible events of 9/11 by invading Iraq – it might be deserved, but it does nothing to solve the original problem.

Selectmen need to stop acting like administration officials during the final days of the Nixon administration. They need to face the problem before them head-on and deal with it.

No one said it will be easy, and no doubt they are somewhat hamstrung in their efforts. But a court of law said John D’Agostino did something illegal, it cost Mansfield money and its integrity, and the townspeople are demanding to know what is going to be done about it.

On this question, no selectman can abstain.

Straight Talk on the Debt Exclusion

2007-09-13T11:47:00.000-04:00

Ok, now I want to take a few minutes and talk to the people of Norton. I want to ask you to stop for a minute, put aside all the emotion and anger associated with any override effort, and take a good hard look at the truth and the facts surrounding this Tuesday’s important vote.

To those who always vote against any override no matter what – you can stop reading now now. Your minds are closed, and the facts don’t matter to you. The same to those who will vote in favor of any override that benefits schools or other interests. There is no sense in anyone explaining anything to you.

But to the majority of the good people of my hometown – the ones that judge both people and issues on the merits rather than the spin others put on them – I ask your attention. I ask you to focus on what needs to be done in our town, figure out the best way to do it, and take care of it in a business-like manner. As voters, that is our job here.

We have real problems with our buildings in town. One of them, a ten year-old school, needs expensive repairs because someone didn’t make sure it was built properly. We have a right to be angry about that, but the fact remains – the building must be fixed, and that cost money that was not expected.

Another school in town has walls that are simply not safe. The supports are corroded and must be replaced. This school is more than 50 years old. It’s walls are not crumbling because of neglect, they are crumbling because of age. It needs to be fixed, and that is not the fault of anyone.

We have a town hall that is an old gymnasium. It was in crappy shape when we renovated it in the mid 1970’s, and it gets worse every year. We have major equipment needs to fund in our public safety departments. We have to spend money on maintenance to make sure our infrastructure does not continue to collapse around us.

The money to do some of these things has already been approved at Town Meeting. The buildings will be fixed – that is not at issue. The only question is – how will we pay for these repairs?

We have two choices. Please listen to them carefully.

We can finance the extra money by issuing bonds. This is the municipal equivalent of taking out a loan. We will borrow the money for the repairs, and we will pay interest on the loan. The interest, plus the principal payment, will come out of the regular town budget. This will mean these emergency repairs will in effect be deducted from the town’s operating budget. That most likely means cuts in the bigger budgets – schools, fire and police.

Our second option is to pass the debt exclusion. What this does, greatly simplified, is place $1.9 million for repairs and capital projects outside the Proposition 2-1/2 limit. This will bring about a temporary tax increase. This increase will average about $36 per year for eight years for the average homeowner. At the end of eight years, the tax increase will disappear, and the town will be back under the Proposition 2-1/2 limit.

This will allow us to pay for the repairs, but without spending any money on interest. The repairs will cost LESS if the debt exclusion passes than they will if it is defeated. That is worth repeating, for those who may have missed it the first time: The repairs will cost LESS if the debt exclusion passes than they will if it is defeated.

But override opponents tell you it is a bad idea to pass the debt exclusion. They note – and quite correctly – that you will pay more taxes if it passes than you will if it loses. But they conveniently don’t tell you, as Paul Harvey so eloquently says, the rest of the story.

They want you to be penny wise and pound foolish. They want the town to unnecessarily spend more money so they can save a few bucks in their pockets. To them, the impact on town services does not matter.

The override opponents are simply not being honest with the voters. Their flyer says “How this money will be spent and what it will be spent on is anybody’s guess”. Yet they know selectmen and the Town Manager have already pledged to spend the money on the repairs and capital improvements.

And their own “expert” on Prop 2-1/2. Chip Faulkner of Citizens for Limited Taxation, told everyone on John Freeman’s TV show that he has never seen any town promise to spend override money on one thing and then spend it on something else after it is voted. But that didn’t get put in the flyer somehow.

Ladies and gentlemen, your town has never passed an override in the history of Prop 2-1/2. For 26 years Norton has lived within the constraints of 2-1/2 as though it were a religion. We built a school and a police station without any relief from 2-1/2.

Yes, there has been questionable spending over the years. There is in every town. Override opponents can point to instances where money was spent unwisely, or mismanagement occurred. No one is saying otherwise.

But defeating this intelligent, important debt exclusion does nothing to make up for the mistakes of either the past, present or the future. They think it sends a message – and I agree with them.

But they think the message it sends is “Just tell the town officials No, and teach them a lesson”. I think the message it sends is “We don’t care what makes good sense – we just want to flex our muscles and feel important”.

Voters of Norton – don’t let a small, angry and stubborn group of citizens make you disregard the clear facts of this matter. Don’t let them turn this election on Tuesday into a referendum on the performance of town officials. This is not about that. It is about the best, most economical way to pay for needed repairs to our buildings.

Vote with your heads, not your hearts. Don’t be swayed by empty threats and groundless accusations. Look at the facts, and figure it out for yourselves. Don’t rely on me, or John Freeman, or anyone else for the right answer. Rely on your own common sense.

Put the politics aside – do what is best for the community. Don’t let hatred and mistrust guide your vote, but rather intelligence and a desire to do the right thing. If you do that, I am confident you vote to pass the debt exclusion on Tuesday, and set Norton back on the right financial track.

Patriots Caught Cheating

2007-09-12T16:00:00.000-04:00

For the record, I have been a Patriots season ticket holder for most of the last 35 years. I go to every home game, and a fair number of the road games. I have been to three SuperBowls, as well as every AFC Championship game the team has ever played.

So I am a big fan.

But I am not so big a fan that I cannot admit what seems to be undeniable - the Patriots violated NFL rules last week against the Jets. In short - they cheated.

They violated the rule that prohibits video cameras being used on the sideline. They were fliming the defensive calls from the Jet coaches. What they did is illegal, and they deserve to be punished for their actions.

But please folks - let's not get carried away here.

While what the Pats did was definitely against the rules, it does not rise to the level of offense that many nationally and even locally are claiming. That does not mean they are not guilty - it just means this is not a hanging offense.

Every team in the league steals signs from the sideline. Most teams have personnel dedicated to doing just that. They watch the coaches, and report on the signs given. That is why every team in the league guards their signs, and in fact use decoys to display false signs. This has been going on in the NFL since the very first game.

The difference is - the Pats got caught. They used a video camera, which is clearly illegal under the rules. They were dumb. Why and how their very smart coach allowed this to happen, I do not know. But make no mistake, he is the one responsible for it.

But I have heard people today comparing Bill Belichick to Barry Bonds. I mean, seriously - give me a break.

Belichick is not a likeable guy, much like Bonds. That is about the only thing they have in common.

Teams are caught cheating in this kind of manner all the time. That does not excuse the Patriots - we expect better of them. But it puts it in perspective.

Teams have been fined for playing fast and loose with the salary cap, for stashing players, for banned substances, for violating scouting rules, and a wide variety of similar offenses. This clearly falls into the category with those.

But because it is the Patriots, who have become the Yankees of the NFL - this is a big deal. I have heard and read where people said they should give their Super Bowl championships back, Belichick should resign, and even that they should forfeit the last game to the Jets. That one is funny, considering the camera in question was confiscated during the FIRST quarter of Sunday's game. So why were we killing them in the final quarter?

This is a very disappointing thing for Patriot fans. It has taken some of the fun out of what promises to be a great season. It has cut into the pride we all feel as Pats fans, rooting for one of the finest franchises in sports.

But we shall deal with it.

The Patriots cheated, they got caught, and they will pay an appropriate price. Then the season will go on, and the attention will be focused where it belongs - on the field.

But spare me the hypocracy and New York hype.

Taking Care of Kitty...

2007-09-12T09:37:00.000-04:00

This column originally appeared in the Mansfield News in December 2005. It received a third place award from the New England Presss Association in the Serious Columnist category.

A short time ago I came across a letter from a man who had encountered difficulty trying to adopt a cat to give to his elderly mother. This made me stop and ponder the strange and wonderful world we live in.

The man had been greeted warmly at his local cat shelter and shown many lovely animals. He picked one out for Mom, happy she would have a pet and companion. He began the adoption process, and ran into immediate trouble.

When filling out the necessary paperwork, the gentleman ran across a question concerning how the cat would be housed. He answered the cat would be kept indoors primarily, but also allowed unfettered access to the outside.

At this point, the adoption process ground to a swift halt.

It seems many shelters these days have strict rules regarding how their adoptee kittens are to be kept. Many will not allow adoptions to people who do not pledge to keep the pets indoors, away from dangerous automobiles, coyotes and other natural predators.

His reaction to this was somewhat similar to my own: You have GOT to be kidding me.

I understand the need to care for and protect animals. I understand the need to have them spayed and vaccinated. I totally approve of the care in which they are doled out to their adopted homes.

But now cats can’t be trusted outside the home itself? Good grief, have we become that anal as a society? We are talking cats here – not kids. They are animals, for goodness sake. They were meant to live outside, not necessarily in warm, comfortable homes with wall-to-wall carpeting and kitty toys in little wicker baskets.

I love cats. I have had many of them over my life. Some lived to ripe old ages, others met untimely ends. I treated my cats well, and considered them part of the family.

But keep them strictly inside? I never felt the need to do that. I lived in homes with yards where they loved to wander, chase squirrels, and often torment the neighbor’s dogs. I had no need to implant microchips in them, or tuck little roadmaps in their collars. They always seemed to find their own way home.

Yes, cats can be snatched away by coyotes or predators. And yes, many a Buick has ended the life of a sweet little kitten. But for crying out loud – they are cats. They are living animals, not robots created to keep us company or give us a cuddle toy at night.

Where will this end? Will shelters insist on every kitten having its own room? Will agreements have to be signed, committing one spouse or the other to pay for kitty college in the event the cat wishes to better itself?

It is not my intent to demean or belittle in any way the good work done by the many cat shelters and organizations throughout the country. They are run by sincere, caring people who seek the best for the animals they love.

But insisting cats be kept inside is patently absurd, unless of course it is an older cat that has never been outside before. Do we somehow feel the need to regulate everything that happens in this country?

Fears of roving bands of wild cats are just plain silly. While feral cats sometimes cause problems, let us remember that not every cat who spends considerable time outside is wild. Some of them just like it out there.

Now that the kids have moved out, maybe it is time for a new cat. After all, I have two empty bedrooms. But then, there’s no cable in one of them…I’ll never be approved.

Why Do I Do This?

2007-09-11T13:14:00.001-04:00

This column was originally published in the Mansfield News in September 2004.

There are questions that this intrepid local columnist gets asked all the time. The first is – Will you please just shut up?

But it is the second most frequently asked question that I would like to discuss in this space today. That question is – Why do you do what you do?

Many people cannot understand what would motivate someone to write a local opinion column for a weekly newspaper, never mind three of them each week as I do. Believe me when I tell you, it is not for the money. I will never be able to retire on what I make here..

Some folks think it is to gain power and prestige in order to advance some personal or political agenda. If you have read this space on a regular basis, you know that my views are uniquely my own and do not align with any particular group or philosophy.

In fact, my wife has a theory of why I put myself out there in this manner each week. She says – tongue-in-cheek - it wasn’t enough for me to be hated in one town, I had to go for a couple more.

But the truth is, I love to write and I love to discuss the issues of the day. I am a firm believer in the need for ordinary citizens to be involved and lead. Since I am as ordinary as anyone, I consider myself qualified in this regard.

What bothers me is how few people seem to understand this desire to be involved. In today’s world, people struggle mightily to maintain their anonymity. They seek not to be noticed, to simply melt into the background and enjoy the pleasures afforded by their own families and friends. There is certainly nothing wrong with that.

After all, they see what happens to those who dare to speak out and lead. Those people are subjected to intense public scrutiny, their faults are made public and expanded, they are placed under the glare of a spotlight from which few if any can come out looking perfect.

Who in their right mind would subject themselves to this type of treatment unless they had something significant to gain? These people surely must be masochistic, egotistic or crazy. They must love to fight.

Perhaps that is true. No one who puts their opinion out there every week is without ego. If you don’t strongly believe you are right, you stand no chance of convincing anyone else you are. And crazy? Well, my family members will concede that issue to almost anyone who raises it.
But I speak directly to the public on a weekly basis because I want to – no other real reason. It makes me feel good. It makes me feel as if I am serving a purpose, as though I am making a difference. I do it for myself.

I do it because I enjoy the give-and-take when someone contacts me to dispute my view on an issue. I do it because of the way I feel when someone writes to thank me for saying what they wanted to say in a way they had been unable to express successfully themselves.

These columns are meant to inspire thought and debate. They are meant to lead, even if they wind up leading people in the direction opposite of where my printed words want them to go. I write to make people think, to learn from their responses, and to express myself.

What bothers me the most is how few people realize that. There is nothing exceptional about me. I simply say what I think, and the truth is I can’t understand those who do otherwise.

So the answer to the question of why I do this is – because I enjoy it and because I believe it helps me make a difference. Also, it is considerably less expensive than a psychiatrist.

What's this all about?

2007-09-11T13:02:00.000-04:00

Hi All -

After nearly ten years of writing weekly columns in the Norton Mirror, and also adding the Mansfield News and Easton Journal along the way, I thought I would experiment with a Blog!

My goal is to make this an interactive conversation between myself and my readers. I will post columns I write here, as well as merely writing to the Blog when the mood strikes me. This gives me a chance to respond instantly to issues in the communty, and allows readers a voice also.

I hope you will take the time to read this space, and to pass it along to friends and foes alike. I hope to make it interesting and informative!

Thanks
Bill Gouveia

Gadget Junkie

2007-09-10T11:48:00.001-04:00

Even though I was not caught up in the iPhone frenzy of a few months ago, when it comes to things like that I’m afraid I have an admission to make.

My name is Bill – and I’m an electronics gadget junkie.

I’ve always been fascinated by technology and the toys that allow us to take advantage of it. Televisions, cell phones, computers, sound systems – they tend to draw me to them like a fish to a shiny lure.

My home is a testament to that addiction. Against the will of my lovely wife, our home is full of electronic gadgetry which performs a myriad of necessary (in my judgment) tasks that no modern household should be without.

In the Gouveia home, that addiction begins with the centerpiece – the television. Mine is a widescreen 50” High Definition LCD TV I bought just before Game 6 of the Sox/Yankees playoff series in 2004. Since then I have treated it with deference and respect, and it holds a place of honor in our home.

Of course, no good television is worth its salt unless you surround it with devices which allow it to be utilized to its full potential. I owed it to the TV to make sure it had what it needed – that’s how I explained it to my Beloved.

That starts with a digital HD cable DVR box, needed to capture the incredible High Definition programming available today. It also allows for digital, tapeless recording of any program. That is accompanied by a Direct TV box, which I keep because it is the only way to get the NFL package during football season. Can’t miss any games, after all.

Beside that sits a DVD player/recorder, enabling us to watch the latest DVDs as well as record movies and shows onto discs to be watched later. Transferring our old home movies from VCR tapes to DVD is now a snap.

Below that on the electronics rack sits the newest piece of electronic bliss – a Bose surround-sound system. This is my newest pride and joy, an anniversary present for both of us (at least, that’s what my wife agreed to say) we bought in celebration of our 30th.

The unbelievable sound this generates alone is worth the time it took to set it up. It also serves as a giant music source, digitally recording up to 200 hours of music for playback. The fact I have not listened to a total of 200 hours of music in the last 20 years does not restrict my respect for this great ability.

Also occupying a place of great respect is a unique device called Slingbox. This modern technological miracle allows me to connect to my home television from any web-based computer with no monthly fee. This has come in very handy when traveling on business, allowing me to still watch the Red Sox games in areas of the country where they are not being shown.

My wife and I both have satellite radios in our vehicles. My cell phone is pretty basic, but I do also have a PDA to keep track of business and personal records and appointments. My wife has a phone that connects to the web, gets email, and does everything but make dinner. She’s working on that last part.

Our cars have automatic starters. Our computers are hooked up to wireless high-speed internet. Our home phone is wireless and portable.

I am driven to this addiction not out of the need to keep up with anyone, but rather by sheer laziness and selfishness. I love gadgets. I love the ease they add to my life, the things they allow me to do. I am hopelessly hooked.

As I sit typing this on my laptop computer and prepare to send it to my editor by email over my wireless internet while watching a movie in high definition on my widescreen TV with the sound pouring through the surround sound system, I say again I am an electronic gadget junkie – and happy about it.

Do you think those iPhones really work?

Norton Debt Exclusion - The Facts

2007-09-10T11:30:00.000-04:00

“Shall the Town of Norton be allowed to exempt from the provisions of Proposition 2 1/2, so-called, the amounts required to pay for the bonds issued in 1998 in order to construct, equip and furnish the Middle School?”

The above question will be on the ballot when voters go to the polls on September 18th. Those voters will either approve it or defeat it.

But just what does that rather vague and confusing question really mean? In plain English, what does the approval or defeat of this question mean for the voters and taxpayers of Norton?

Well, let’s try and cut through the political mumbo-jumbo here and talk in simple terms about what this question means to the average taxpayer. Voters need to understand just what will result from their actions a few weeks from now.

If approved, this will take the amount of money remaining to be paid on the Middle School built ten years ago and exempt it from the Proposition 2-1/2 limit. These payments total $1.9 million, the amount of extra taxation this question will generate over the course of the eight years remaining on the debt.

Think of it as a mortgage on the Middle School. If approved, the question will place the amounts of the town’s mortgage payments outside the Prop 2-1/2 limits until the mortgage is paid off. This is very common among towns, and is how most communities fund their major building projects.

The money this generates over and above the Prop 2-1/2 limit will be used for repairing school and municipal buildings, as well as other capital improvement projects. These projects are absolutely necessary, and will for the most part be done whether the question passes or not.

If the question fails, the projects will be done in part by using money taken from other parts of the existing town budget. Money will be drawn away from schools, public safety, and other major parts.

If the question passes, voters will pay extra taxes beyond the limit of Prop 2-1/2 for the next eight years. After eight years, the tax increase will disappear and the town will again be within the limits of Prop 2-1/2.

The average home in Norton is valued at $352,000. If the question passes, the average homeowner will pay $36 extra per year, or slightly less than $300 over the eight-year period. This comes to just over $3 per month.

If the question fails, voters will not pay any more in taxes – at least, not in the short term. However, the town will be forced to finance some of the needed repairs by borrowing money and issuing bonds. This means the town will pay interest on top of the repairs, thus raising the price of fixing the buildings.

Voters need to weigh the cost of the temporary tax increase - $3 per month for eight years for the average taxpayer – against the impact of severe budget cuts on town services. If they are not prepared to live with the small tax increase, they must be prepared to deal with major service reductions.

Some of the problems that now need to be fixed – though certainly not all – could have been prevented with better maintenance. If the budget is further reduced in order to pay for the repairs, it will be even more difficult than in the past to provide proper maintenance.

So to summarize:

Vote Yes, and you will pay a small amount of extra taxes for the next eight years in order to fix the town’s schools and infrastructure.

Vote No, and you will pay no extra taxes this year but will most likely see major service reductions in schools and public safety, increasing the need and the likelihood of a permanent general override in the near future.

Voters of Norton – the choice is yours. Choose wisely.

Mansfield Recall

2007-09-10T11:28:00.000-04:00

What a difference a week makes.

On August 16th Selectman Lou Amoruso was quoted saying he believed in the recall process, and that it was in place for a reason.

“It works. That’s the important thing,” Amoruso said. The selectman later added “If they can’t find 5 percent of the people who aren’t happy with me, then I’m not doing my job.”

But Amorosu seems to have had a change of heart. Just a week later, the veteran selectman was singing quite a different tune. Along with two other selectmen, he voted to ask for a review of the recall petition by a special counsel to determine its legality.

Amoruso and Selectman David McCarter, the two targets of the recall, now have suggested the petition and the process itself are flawed. Amoruso even talked about possibly suing to stop the recall, the process he said only a week earlier “works.”

McCarter told the board the recall petition “does not rise to the level of an affidavit.” He also claimed the petition talks about the verdict delivered against the town recently, but notes no individual names appear in the verdict.

“I believe the statement is a half truth,” McCarter said. I do not see my name, or your name, or the board of light commissioners in the verdict,” he told Amoruso during their meeting.

Unlike McCarter, I am not a lawyer. But I can read a verdict, and my reading of the verdict posted on the town web site seems to show otherwise.

The defendants listed on the verdict are “Town of Mansfield Municipal Electric Department and John D’Agostino.” The members of the Board of Selectmen also serve as the Board of Light Commissioners. In that capacity they oversee the operation of the Electric Department. As selectmen, they also are responsible for D’Agostino. That would include Amoruso and McCarter.

The point of names not appearing in the verdict is just plain silly. Your name does not need to appear on a verdict to make a recall legal. The recall process is deliberately vague as to the reasons for allowing recall. The charter was designed that way, believing it best to leave the final question of validity up to those best equipped to decide it – the voters of Mansfield.

Most of the objections to the process stated by Amoruso and McCarter are groundless and nothing more than a smokescreen designed to damage the credibility of the recall effort. But unless the two selectmen are careful, the only credibility they may seriously damage is what remains of their own.

The process being followed is no different from the ones that have taken place in the past. The legality of the recall provision of the Town Charter has been unquestioned prior to now. If selectmen have questions about the process, it is curious they did not bring them up until they were personally affected.

Amoruso and McCarter should fight with all their might if they believe they have done nothing deserving of a recall. They should tell the voters that in a loud and clear manner. The citizens of Mansfield deserve nothing less.

But to tell those voters the system is important and works one week, and then question it a week later does nothing to advance their own cause. It smacks of politics and desperation, neither of which is attractive in a leader.

If the recall is groundless, the voters will tell us. But it has been done in accordance with the rules and the law, and that needs to be respected. It is time for Mansfield’s leaders to stop playing games, and prepare to stand on their records and their performance.

Remembering a Life, Not a Death

2007-09-10T11:20:00.000-04:00

People from out-of-town are this week talking about Beth Cann, the Norton woman who died a tragic death.

But here, friends and neighbors talk about Beth Cann, the woman who lived a life so big, so full of love for family, friends and others that it took two towns and two churches to celebrate all she was and all she did.

This past Saturday a Canton Roman Catholic church opened its doors and its hearts to a Norton Protestant Congregational church to hold a memorial service for a woman who throughout her life stood for the values each church, in its own way, celebrates and honors every day.

It was her death that brought Beth to the attention of people across the state and country over the last two weeks. But it was how she lived, not how she died, that brought people to pack that Canton church and honor the memory of this extraordinary lady.

Most of us have no control over how we die, or the circumstances surrounding our inevitable demise. Death is a moment in time, and to know or judge a person based on that fleeting snapshot is unfair and often inaccurate. After all, dying often takes no effort. But living – and living well – is an achievement worth noting and celebrating.
Beth Cann lived a life worth celebrating.

Beth was no celebrity in life. She didn’t hold political office, invent medical vaccines, or rescue children from burning buildings. She never won a Nobel Prize, wrote a best-selling book, or won an Olympic gold medal.

But the things she did do, she did incredibly well.

She raised three beautiful daughters with all the love, patience and understanding any parent could possibly give. She taught them what is important in life, and to treasure the love of family.

She exemplified the word “friend”, giving of herself to so many it is a wonder there was enough of her to go around. She was quick with a smile, infectious in her good humor, and sensitive to the plight of others.

She also understood service, and was a living example. She loved her church, and understood she could only get out of it what she put into it. She devoted countless hours to making it a better place. As a Youth Group leader, she passed on her own special brand of caring and wisdom to the generation that would follow her.

Beth’s memorial service was packed with friends and people who loved and respected her. Fellow church members organized and planned the event with the love and effort only true friendship can inspire. What they did is more of a testament to Beth than could possibly be offered here.

She leaves three daughters, all facing a long journey to recover from the events surrounding their mother’s death. As they grow older, they will come to appreciate the foundation their mother laid for them, which will give them the strength and faith to grow up and live on.

When the photographers and news crews disappear, and the sad story of last week’s events fades from the pages of the newspapers, the emphasis on her death will be over. The out-of-towners will go home, and the plight of others who suffer terrible tragedies will dominate the news.

But here – and wherever her friends and family may gather – Beth Cann will always be remembered not for the terrible way in which she died but for the wonderful manner in which she lived.

Becoming a Grandparent

2007-09-10T11:17:00.000-04:00

When my son and daughter-in-law walked into my office together on a Monday morning, I should have known something was up. When he asked me to settle an argument between them, I was still not suspicious.

“We can’t agree,” my smiling son said, slapping a small black and white photograph on my desk. It looked to me like a weather photo showing the eye of a hurricane. “Do you think that looks more like a boy or a girl?” he grinned.

That was how I discovered I am going to be a Grandfather.

Though it may be hard for those who know me to believe, I was temporarily speechless. Then I rose from my chair, hugged both parents-to-be, stepped into the general clerical area of my office and yelled “Excuse me – but I’m going to be a Grandfather!”

Now I know what all you good readers are thinking – that I am way too young and good-looking to be a Grandfather. Nonetheless, it is true. My oldest son and his beautiful wife are expecting their first child sometime in April.

I praised my son on his planning. The baby will be born after baseball’s Opening Day, but before the NBA playoffs. The birth avoids all potential conflicts with Red Sox or Patriots playoff game possibilities also. At least the kid learned something from his old man.

I always wondered exactly how I would feel if I ever discovered I was going to be a grandparent. Now I know. I am thrilled beyond words, excited at all the good times to come, and already impatient for the little bundle of joy to arrive. I want a grandson now – not in April.

And yes, I said grandson. I know I will be just as happy with either a healthy boy or a healthy girl, but make no mistake. This is a grandson. There is no doubt in my mind.

The proud expectant parents have decided they do not want to know the sex of the child until the birth, and I think that’s great. I have always hated it when parents want to know the sex early so they can paint the walls blue or pink, or so relatives know what kind of clothes to buy. Having a baby isn’t about being practical, it’s about family – and family seldom makes sense.

I have already made known my intentions of spoiling this expected child rotten. I am working on a list of things he (yes damn it, I said he) can do at my house that he can’t do at home. And I am preparing the forms for him to sign guaranteeing he won’t tell his mother.

I quickly figured out that when my grandchild graduates from high school I will be 70. By the time the kid graduates from Harvard I will be 74. I haven’t yet decided on a graduation gift.

As you can see, this is really all about me.

But in all seriousness this is one of the great moments of my life. I am happy for my son and his wife, who is the daughter I never had. They are a great couple, and they will make fantastic parents. I am so proud of the both of them.

I remember my own grandparents with great love and fondness. I was particularly close to my maternal grandparents, and they each played a major role in helping me grow up. They impacted what kind of person I became.

That is the kind of role I hope to play in my unborn grandchild’s life. It is a role I believe I was born to play, and I intend to earn an Academy Award.

Now truth be told, my lovely wife is slightly less thrilled with the idea of becoming a grandparent than I am. While happy for the kids, she feels too young to move on to this stage.

I don’t know what she is complaining about. After all, I’m the one that will soon be sleeping with a grandmother.