To Keep and Bear Death Stars

I read recently about how the current administration has no plans to build a Death Star.

 

 

This is of course ridiculous.

 

 

The Death Star is EXACTLY the kind of project we need to be working on in this country. It's big; it will employ lots of people, from engineers to programmers, to construction works, to insurance adjusters, to maintenance droids. You know, the unemployement rate among maintenance droids remains significantly above the average national unemployment rate. This would be a major job creator.

 

 

And as far as investing in our military and creating a lasting peace, there can be no better deterrent to outside attack that a Death Star! Sure, it may be vulnerable to a rag-tag bunch of rebels, but just don't deploy it in an area where you are facing said rebels.

 

 

Well, if the government is "not interested in blowing up planets," I will clearly have to do this myself. It shouldn't be too hard. Maybe I can't build a full-scale moon-sized version, but a more modest version should be easy enough to construct. After all, the technology already exists. Most of the R&D stuff is out of the way. I just need to strap those lasers on my car, and boom!  Instant Instellar Assault Prius.

 

Artist's Conception

Now, you're probably thinking that the ability to destroy entire planets is a) nothing compared to the awesome power of the Force, and b) probably illegal.

 

 

I'll grant you the first part, but as for the second, I dare you to confiscate my Death Star!

 

 

According to the Second Amendment to the Constitution, the founding document of this great nation, I have an unlimited right to "keep and bear arms." It does not ever qualify the words "arms," so I believe I am free to interpret it any way I want. And I want a Death Star!

 

 

I can already hear you bleeding heart liberals, trying to take away my Freedom. (That's what I'm going to name my instellar assault Prius: Freedom!)

 

 

Oh sure, you can point out that the Second Amendment actually references the need to maintain a well-regulated militia for the national defense, that it was written at a time when we had no standing army, and relied on local militias, members of which needed to provide their own firearms, and when no nation had successfully transitioned from a monarchy to a free Republic so the threat of someone attempting to seize power from the fledgling government was real and immediate.

 

 

You could point out that those circumstances no longer exist today, that we have a professional standing army, that our government provides weapons for that army (and for most of the other armies in the world, too, for that matter), and that our democracy has stood up to challenge after challenge and remains one of the strongest and most robust national governments in the world.

 

 

I suppose you could even point out that when the second amendment was written, the most devastating weapon at their disposal was a cannon, and most armies fought with single-shot muskets that required considerable time to reload, and were accurate only at point-blank range, assuming they didn't just explode in your hands. That the idea of Death Stars capable to shooting lasers as hot as the Sun never even crossed the minds of our Founding Fathers, nor tanks, nor fighter planes, nor rocket launchers, nor fully automatic rifles, nor semi-automatic rifles, nor high capacity ammunition magazines, nor automatic pistols, nor really any of the monstrous agents of death you tree huggers are always complaining about.

 

 

And, honestly, you'd have a point.

 

 

But, too bad!

 

What, are we to look at the Second Amendment as an antique, a relic from a by-gone time that is no longer relevant to the situation that we as a society find ourselves in? Should we seek a new Constitutional Amendment, to help strengthen the freedoms we want strengthened, while also creating a safer world for our children.  Should we be concentrating on the enormous amount of common ground between our views, more clearly defining the terms of the social contract on which this country was founded, rather than just falling back into our stereotypical roles, ensuring that nothing will be resolved?

That's just what Stalin would have wanted! That's just what a Fascist would say!

 

 

I want my Death Star, and you, with your common sense, your rational approach to difficult problems, your understanding of the actual original intend of our Founders, your insistence on living in the 21st century instead of the 18th, you can't stop me. 

 

Because in MY world, the Constitution gives me unlimited power to have any weapon I want, because having the capacity to kill anyone at any time is what's known around here as the American Way!  And you can take my lightsaber when you pry it from my cold, robotic hand! 

 

(This blog paid for by the National Death Star Association.)

5 New Years Resolution (I have no intention of keeping)

I gave up on resolutions a long time ago, and yet every year I think maybe this is the year, the chance to make some kind of meaningful change based on my spur of the moment, half-inebriated decisions!  Because nothing can go wrong there!

That's the weight of my shame...

So here we go, five New Years Resolution that I will completely fail to keep.

1  Work Less:

Yeah, who doesn’t resolve to work less?

But the fact is, I am very lucky in the way I have been able to afford to balance my work and my family.  I have, quite be accident, ended up in a career that prizes working odd hours, and I am in a role that lets me set my own schedule, within certain limits.  Those limits are known as holidays and weekends, or, as we in the retail/customer service world call them, “work days.”

But those are also the days I want to spend with my wife and daughter, so I’d like to resolve to work fewer holidays and weekends (and holiday weekends, for that matter).

Of course, that’s never gonna happen.  At least, not without a major career change.  I do, after all, have a mortgage to pay. 

And speaking of career changes and things that won’t happen this year, I also resolve to:

2  Open a Distillery:

Reed Distillery, Makers of Fine Rums and Whiskeys, Founded 2013.

Nice ring to it, don’t you think?

I’ll bet you thought I was going to say brewery?  You know, since I’m a homebrew dad, love beer, and all that?

And you’d be wrong.

I mean, you’d be right, if someone came up to me and said, “Hey Dave, wanna help me start a brewery?” and I knew for an absolute fact this hypothetical person wasn’t insane, I’d jump at the chance.

But give me the choice of just one job I’d like to do for the rest of my life, and making whiskey is at the top of that list.

And though I’m not a fan of most rums, rum distilling was perfected, if not invented, in New England in the 17^th and 18^th centuries, and I’m never one to turn my back on history.

High quality, small batch rum and whiskey…

It has the potential for being very profitable, and also the potential of crashing and burning faster than Susan Rice’s cabinet nomination (too soon?).

And as I mentioned, I have a mortgage to pay.

Maybe next year.

In the meantime, I’ll amuse myself by resolving to

3  Blog More Often:

Ha!

I’m writing about New Years Resolutions more than a week after New Years.

Yeah, well, let’s be honest.  You're off your diet, too.

And speaking of achieving the impossible, I resolve to

4  Be More Patient:

Confession time.  Being a parent isn’t always easy.

Ok, it isn’t ever easy.

In fact, it’s daunting, scary, and just plain hard.

I write in this blog about the best moments of parenting:  the hugs, the moments of toddler brilliance, the cute stuff.  I usually leave out the baffling, frustrating, irrational, white-hair inducing moments.  Not out of any kind of censorship, or because I’m trying to shield you from my true evil nature, I just don’t think you want to hear about that stuff.

But I admit, sometimes I lose my temper.

When I do get mad, I usually manage (eventually) to take a few deep breaths, and realize that this isn’t much to get mad about.  There are usually other ways of dealing with the situation, and if I just stay calm, everything will be fine.  And even if everything isn’t fine, as long as no one gets hurt, no harm done.

So I fully intend that this year will be the year of the calmer, more collected, quieter—

ELLA!  GET DOWN FROM THERE THIS INSTANT!  YOU HEARD ME, GET DOWN!  HOW DID YOU EVEN GET UP THERE?  DON’T MAKE ME COME OVER THERE!  PUT DOWN THAT POODLE!  THAT’S IT, YOUNG LADY, YOU ARE IN TROUBLE!!

Um…let’s just skip to the next one.

5  Save the Planet:

I almost didn’t put this one on the list, because I really intend to do it.  The only problem is, I’m going to fail.

I’m not Superman.  I mean, I do have super powers, if driving my wife crazy can be considered a super power, but even Superman couldn’t fix global warming all on his own.  He’d at least need Aquaman’s help.

But I’m doing what I can.  Getting solar panels, driving a Prius, making our house so efficient that we get an Energy Star logo painted on the side.  But by myself, that means almost nothing.

I just came home from a Town Meeting where all the other residents of my town voted to keep solar farms out of residential neighborhoods, because they’re concerned that their property values will go down.  Ok, so you don’t want to cut down trees to put in solar panels.   I get that.  Trees are pretty.  But hey, you know where the trees have already been cut down?  Right where your house is!  How about we clear out a couple of housing developments and build a solar farm there! 

Fortunately, their property values are safe, at least until global warming turns this whole state into a Mad Max-like hellscape, which I can only hope will be ruled over by badass motorcycle gangs with huge mohawks, because at least those are guys you can reason with. 

We got into this mess by acting as a single force of nature on this planet, and we all need to get together and act as a single force of nature to help this planet.  We build more and more houses, which use more electricity, which comes from coal-burning power plants, and everyone’s cool with that.  But harnessing the sun to offset the mercury- and CO2-spewing power plants?  Well, now, hang on.  Maybe we should think about this for a year or two before we do anything about it.

Except a year is too long.  Even this year is too late.  We needed to do something a decade ago.  And we didn’t.  You need to help me save the planet.  This year.  Now.

Why?  Because all your stuff is here.

I want to see a world of more efficient cars, electric cars, solar panels on every roof, windmills in every yard, compact fluorescent bulbs in ever socket.  We could generate all the electricity we need without burning a single lump of coal.  We can totally do this.  Turn off the TV, have dinner my candelight once in a while, buy less crap we don't need, throw out less crap that could still be useful, even to someone else.  All we lack is the inability to see beyond our own front yard. 

The world is a big and beautiful place, and you’ll miss it when it’s gone.

Wow, I’m really getting kind of wound up here.   Maybe I should have just resolved to lose some weight.

Finally, I did make one resolution for the year, or at least one wish for the new year, which I intend to keep and I hope all of you reading this will keep it as well, which is this:

I resolve to be here, happy and healthy, at the end of the year, and I hope that all of you will be here with me.

Happy 2013!

P.S. Build a snowman.

The Great (Environmentally Conscious) Elf Rescue!

A couple nights ago, while getting my daughter ready for bed, she asked me to make up a story for her.

It’s been a long time since I made up a story on the spot, but seeing as I was in a Christmas kind of mood, I gave it a shot.  I’m sorry you can’t experience the original, illustrated as it was with a nifty glowing pictures thanks to a glow-in-the-dark light-writing board.  But you should still get the gist of it, complete with the requisite pseudo-leftist pro-environmental cautionary propaganda.

Santa Claus and the North Pole

Have you ever wondered why Santa lives at the North Pole?

He didn’t always, you know.  Years ago, before he was Santa, when he was young Nicolas, he lived on a tropical island, where he sat in the sun and drank lemonade.

This doesn’t mean Nick was a lazy young man.  No, he worked hard, building himself a tree house out of palm trees and coconuts, and in his spare time, he liked carving animals out of little pieces of driftwood.  His favorite animal to carve was a wooden duck.

He lived his tropical life for many years, until one day, when he was sitting in his usual spot on the beach, he felt water touching his toes.  He looked toward the ocean, and saw that the water was much higher today than it had ever been before.

How odd, he thought.  And he moved a little further up the beach.  An hour later, the waves were touching his toes again,

The ocean water was MUCH higher now.  Nick decided he’d had enough sitting on the beach and went back to his tree house.  He ate a coconut dinner and went to bed.

In the morning, he couldn’t get out of his tree house.  The ocean had flooded the whole island, and only the trees were still above the waves.  And the ocean was steadily getting higher!

He climbed to the top of the tree house and looked out at the island that was now gone under the ocean waves.

His island was sinking!

Nick called for help, knowing it was no use, knowing he was the only person on his island, but not knowing what else to do.  Suddenly, his cries were drowned out by the sound of a helicopter.  It was painted red and white and circled above his tree.  A rope ladder dropped down and Nick climbed up.  Inside the helicopter, was he met by two people, both with long gray beards and pointy ears, but both no bigger than a five-year-old child.

“I’m Clarence,” said Clarence.  “And this is Moe.  You’re lucky we were nearby.”  The only way Nick could tell the difference between the two elves was by their hats.  Clarence had a red and green hat, while Moe had a green and red hat.  Nick admitted to himself that was a poor way to tell them apart, but then Moe gave him a glass of lemonade, and he relaxed a little.

As the helicopter sped over the ocean, Nick asked the elves what was going on.

“The oceans are rising,” Clarence explained.  “It’s the children.  Right around this time of year, every year, all the children in the world get so sad, and they start crying, and their tears run into the rivers, which run into the oceans, and the oceans keep getting higher.  Your island was the lowest island we could find, which is lucky for you, because we were keeping an eye on it to see when it would finally flood.”

“If we can’t get the children to stop crying,” added Moe, “soon, the oceans will flood everything!”

That didn’t sound good to Nick.

“Where are we going?” Nick asked.

“We have to find someplace that won’t flood,” said Clarence.

“And figure out how to stop the children from crying,” added Moe.

“Hmm…” said Nick. 

They say that some people are born with great ideas, and that some people have an idea that becomes great.  And some people find themselves flying in a helicopter with elves while drinking lemonade and suddenly realize, Hey!  Ice floats!

“Take me to the North Pole!” Nick shouted.

At the North Pole, Nick sent Clarence off to find as many other elves as he could.  They’d need a lot of help.  And he asked Moe to start building the biggest sleigh ever built.  Meanwhile, Nick started carving ducks, hundreds of thousands of wooden ducks.

With the help of all the elves Clarence could find, they finished enough ducks for every single child in the world, and loaded them onto the sleigh, which was the biggest anyone has ever seen.  Nick checked the wind, checked the weather forecast, thanked the elves for all their help, hopped into the sleigh, and was ready to go!

Only one problem: the sleigh didn’t move.

Nick looked at Clarence.  Clarence looked at Moe.  Moe noticed that his shoelaces were untied.

After tying his shoes, Moe saw what was wrong.  The sleigh was missing reindeer!  So Moe grabbed eight reindeer that were grazing in the woods nearby and hitched them to the sleigh.  Nick snapped the reigns, and the reindeer pulled and pulled, but the sleigh still wouldn’t budge.

So Moe unhitched the eight regular reindeer, and hitched up eight jet-powered, laser-guided high-velocity reindeer in their place.  Nick gave the reigns that slightest wiggle, and they were airborne!

All through Christmas night they flew, landing on rooftops, dropping wooden toy ducks down chimneys, until Christmas dawn spread over the world.  And because children love wooden toy ducks, all the children in the world stopped crying.  And because all the children suddenly knew that one gift, however small, can mean that someone loves them very much, the oceans receded, and Nick’s island rose out of the ocean again. 

Now, years later, Nick has a beard just like his elves, and the whole world knows him as Santa (which means "Wooden Duck Maker" in elvish), but on a summer evening, when Christmas is still many months away, you might still catch him far from his workshop (which he kept at the North Pole, just in case anyone start crying again), lying on the beach with his glass of lemonade.

And that’s the true story.

Sort of.

 

If I Ran the World...

Well, It's been a long month, but at least the election is done and behind us. 

As you know, (unless you watch Fox News) President Obama won 4 more years.  Some months ago, this blog endorsed the President for re-election, based primarily on his being a fellow Homebrew Dad.

And he won.

So I think I’ll take the credit for that.

But what about the beer?         

The White House beer, I must say, is very good.  Not overly sweet, like many other honey ales I’ve tried, and not overly bitter, like too many homebrews made by homebrewers who think cranking the IBUs to 100 is an original idea.  Sweet, but balanced, surprisingly conservative while still clearly liberal in its alcohol content.  On the whole, delicious.

And as I was quaffing one of these delectable Election Day brews, it suddenly occurred to me how this might be the key to making the world a truly better place.  We spent a lot of time during the election talking about how things were, and how things are, but when it came to making things better, all we got from anyone were vague promises.

So here, in no particular order, are the 5 things I propose (under the influence of homebrew) for solving all our problems.  And the nice things is, none of these will cost much of anything, and will probably save us money in the long run.

Everyone Makes Homebrew

Who didn’t see that one coming?

Ok, so I’m biased, but I really think homebrewing will help solve a lot of our problems, and there are many really good reasons to try it.  For instance…

It will save you money.                

Seriously.  The ingredients for making a basic blonde (pale) ale, or pale lager, will run me about $30, and that’s not even a very good deal.  You can get the stuff cheaper if you try.  One batch makes 5 gallons, which works out to about 48 12 oz bottles, or 8 six packs.  Eight six packs for $30, or about $3.75 per six pack, for good beer.  Find me a better price anywhere.

And if you’re worried about taking jobs away from one of the few industries that still make things in this country, consider this: the best thing that has happened to the beer industry in the last half decade is the rise of homebrewers.  Homebrewing has led to microbrews, craft brews, and a resurgence of forgotten (in this country, anyway) styles like Belgian white, or Irish red.

Don’t like beer?  Make wine.

Don’t drink?  Make cheese, make vinegar, make something! 

We as a society are increasingly reliant on the supermarket and industrial processed food.  I’m not saying everyone should go back to owning a farm and returning to a subsistence economy, but seriously, understand what goes into our food, and try making some stuff from scratch.  You’ll be surprised how easy it is, and how good it turns out!  And it might change the way you think about food.

Eliminate Political Parties

As things stand right now, everyone in this country is identified either as a Democrat or a Republican (or Libertarian, Tea Partier, Communist, and there might be a couple people up in Maine who still go by Bull Moose, I’m not sure).  The point is, right now, that party defines who you are, with Democrats favoring high taxes, and Republicans favoring deregulation of everything, and Tea Partiers favoring white people.  Our representatives go to work, based on party ideals, and only the party with a majority can get anything done.

But what if you want lower taxes and a reduction in government spending, and also favor gay marriage, a woman’s right to choose, and an expansion of Medicaid?  Are you a conservative Democrat?  A liberal Republican?  A Republocrat?

The various party platforms do not and cannot represent every point of view of every American perfectly.  We’re slightly more complex than that.  And increasingly, our elected representatives are discouraged from having their own opinions and voting according to what they believe, because if they do they will be punished by the party machinery. 

Our political system is brilliant at doing exactly what it was designed to do.  It takes into account that we will have important and complicated issues that face us, we have representatives with radically different ideas on how to solve these problems, and we have a process by which competing ideas can be debated, and we have regular elections so if people don’t like the outcome, they can elect new representatives.

This system works, when we let it.

The problem lies in the need to put party needs above the needs of the country, or the state, or the electorate.  People can, and do, have political positions, and they should be elected according to that, but once they are elected, those politicians need to be able to think for themselves in putting forward ideas and considering the ideas put forward by others.  Instead, the parties themselves now stand directly in the way of compromise and rational debate. 

They need to go away. 

Our politicians need to stand up to the powerful partisan machinery, and the voters need to reward the politicians that do.

And please, my fellow voters, call bullshit on the next partisan politician who makes any reference to the “original intention of our founding fathers” or any such nonsense.  Or founders didn’t intend anything, except that people get to vote for their leaders (a radical idea, at the time), and that our nation would occasionally enjoy a peaceful transfer of power from one group of leaders to another (even more radical, at that time), and somehow, even when we disagreed, we’d all find a way to live together without anyone threatening to leave the country if they lost like some whiny kid being forced to share his toys (still a radical idea).

 

And speaking of irrational partisan bickering...

 Free Healthcare

It’s not in the Declaration of Independence, or the Constitution, but only because medical coverage in the 18^th century was mostly delivered in the form of leeches.  But today, with the current advances in medical treatment, with our scientific understanding of health and nutrition and today’s much longer life expectancy, there is no excuse.

Give healthcare to everyone.  Full care for children and elderly; basic, routine care for everyone else.

Didn’t I say this wouldn’t cost us anything?

It wouldn’t.  The government has the money, most of these programs are already in place in one form or another, either at the federal or state level.  And you and I, as private citizens and taxpayers, already pay way more for healthcare than we would under a single-payer government-run system.  Money is not the issue.  Well, money is the issue, but only the money in the insurance industry.  And that's a lot of money we're spending on this stuff, which buys really good lawyers and lobbyists.

But really, life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness?

At least two of those require healthcare.

 Pay People More (Certain People, Anyway)

We are a people who react to incentives.

And there’s no better incentive than money.

Which is why so many smart people spend their lives buying and selling imaginary things like stocks or derivatives or mutual funds or inverse fault derivative bargains (I just made that last one up, but by next year, you’re 401(k) be heavily invested in them), bringing home ridiculous amounts of money to spend on private schools or influencing politicians.

People aren’t attracted to these jobs because they like playing with imaginary things.  They’re attracted by the money.  Which is good, for our overall economy (I want smart people in charge of inflation, interest rates, and economic growth), but what about other just as essential jobs.

It turns out, some of the most important jobs necessary for the future of our country don’t pay very well.  And we should change that.

Start with paying teachers more.  Our schools are, after all, literally determining the course of the future of this country (hint: it’s the kids).  So naturally, we devalue the importance of teachers to the point that the only people who take that job either a) really, really want to teach, even if it means barely making ends meet for most of the rest of their life, only to retire and need to take on a new job because their pension isn’t enough to live on, or b) they want summers off, and don’t really care about anything.

I think most teachers fall into the (a) category, but I’ve met a few from (b). 

But what if young people said to themselves, “I’m smart, I got good grades, I really want to make a boat-load of money.   I could pursue law, maybe get an MBA, or maybe I could become an eight-grade math teacher.”

There are a lot of problems with our educational system, but instead of arguing about class size, or standardized testing (for which there are rational arguments on both sides, and the answer probably lies somewhere in the middle), start with paying teachers what they deserve.  Treat them like rock stars, and while you’re at it, stop pretending rock stars are "role models."  I’d rather my daughter would want to grow up to be like her pre-school teacher than Lady Gaga.

Paying more money to teachers would also attract better teachers, and our students would come out of school with better educations, resulting in more innovations, better leadership all over the place, and a booming economy.

Now, you say, this MUST cost us more money!

That depends (he says in a classic Clintonian evasion).

Are we spending, or are we investing?  Right now, we keep talking about spending money on school, when really, we need to talk about investing in our future (hint: it’s still the kids!).

Of course, no politician would dare spend that much more on education when rich special interests line their pockets with “gifts” and “campaign contributions.”  So before we pay teachers more, first we need to pay another profession more:

Politicians.

And let the hate mail begin!

No, really, hear me out!  Right now, politicians make relatively little salary for what they do.  If you want to be a politician and make a decent living you either need to be a) independently wealthy, or b) totally corrupt.  Or c) both.

Are these really the people we want deciding the fate of this country?  Where are the scientists, the teachers, the laborers, the social workers, the nobel laureates?  They either can’t afford it, or can’t be bothered with such a hopelessly corrupt system.

So, same as with teachers, pay more, and attract a better quality of politician.

There are many good politicians (mostly rich), and many smart politicians (mostly corrupt), but many, many who are neither (both).  We can vote any of these guys out and put in someone who is smart and honest, but they’d have to run for office first, and no one that smart and that honest has any incentive to run.  And that needs to change.

We can take the corrupting influence of money away, just by paying them more.  And every single successful corporation in the world knows that this works.

Think it will cost us money?

I think smart politicians will be a lot more efficient at spend our tax money than most of the turkeys in charge of that now.

(On a personal note, I’d really like to say social workers and retail managers should also be paid more, but I’ll save that for another time.)

And finally,

Go To Mars

I know, this is already on the table.  And I love it.  Space exploration programs produce more return on investment in terms of technological development than just about any other program out there.  These programs, though expensive, pay for themselves.  

Think NASA is a giant waste of taxpayer money?  Check out this site and see what NASA research and development has contributed to the world.  (It doesn't seem too impressive, just one thing...well, refresh the page.)

Which is why we need to go to Mars.

Now, ask any theoretical physicist, engineer, or behavorial psychologist what it will take to get to Mars, and you’ll get three good answers why it’s currently  impossible.  Put them together in a locked room with enough Mountain Dew and pizza, and all those problems will be solved long before the oxygen runs out, and those answers will lead to new technologies with practical applications right here on Earth, which will in turn lead to new industries, new private companies, new manufacturing jobs, and entire new economic models.

Plus, it would be awesome.

Which is why I should run the world.  

One Last Ghost Story: The Burning of the Palatine

Well, last night was Halloween, and what a great Halloween it was!  Weather turned out to be good, my neighborhood has electricity, and we got gobs and gobs of candy!

We also took part in our town’s latest and not-so-greatest idea for creating a “safe” trick-or-treating environment: truck-or-treat.

Have you heard of this?  Maybe I’m the last to know.

In our case, people gather their cars on the town common, open their trunks, and hand out candy to parades of little kids walking by.  Last year, when half the town was still without power and electrical lines and tree branches still hung precariously on many streets, trunk-or-treating saved Halloween.  This year, it was somewhat less necessary.  And it kind of gives me the willies.

The idea seems like a good one:  gather the kids in one place and create a safe trick-or-treating environment.  Only think about the behavior this encourages:  walking up to a stranger’s car because of the promise of candy in the truck.  That’s just an abduction waiting to happen.

On the other hand...

But while that’s all behind us, there’s still time for one last ghost story:

This one, like my last one, comes out of Rhode Island.  I grew up close to the ocean, and from some of the Rhode Island beaches where I would build sand castles and look for shells and sea glass, I could look out on the vastness of the blue-gray waters, and the unimaginable secrets held in its depths.

Rhode Island has not one, but many islands, almost all of which are found within Narragansett Bay.  But a little ways out into the Atlantic Ocean lies the tiny island of Block Island, all by itself.  As you can imagine, the people on Block Island make their living largely off the ocean, and have for centuries, one way or the other.

Back in the 18^th century, sailing along the waters off southern New England was a dangerous affair.  Between storms and rocks, many ships met their end, including many that ended up run aground on the shores of Block Island.  In those cases, there were residents of the island who would come out and ransack the ship, scavenging anything they could get their hands on.

Supposedly, some even hung lanterns or built signal fires near the most dangerous rocks, hoping to attract ship to be wrecked on the rocks.  And some say that is exactly what happened to the Princess Augusta in 1738.

The Princess Augusta was carrying a load of immigrants, nothing of value at all, but it was caught in a storm of Long Island.  The legends are unclear if the ship struck the rocks of Block Island by accident, or if they were lured onto the rocks by wreckers, but wreck it did.

The wreckers who made it to the ship found nothing of value, but helped all the passengers onto shore.  All, that is, except for one woman, sometimes described as a “mad woman,” who refused to leave.  The ship was set ablaze, at which point the rising tide and winds pushed the Princess Augusta back off the rocks.  The ship drifted off to the edge of the horizon, blazing like a Viking funeral, and all the while, the people ashore could hear the mad woman’s screams.

The following year, on the anniversary of the wreck, awestruck islanders watched as the Princess Augusta appeared again off shore, still engulfed in flames, and the mad woman’s screams once again filled their ears, before drifting once again beyond the horizon.

This horrifying story became even more legendary when the poet John Greenleaf Whittier used it as the inspiration for his poem, “Wreck of the Palatine.”

And to this day, residents of Block Island still say that one night a year, usually the night of a storm, near the anniversary of wreck back in 1738, you can still see the light of the burning ship on the horizon, now known as the “Palatine Light.”

And if the wind is blowing just the right way, the mad woman’s screams can still be heard.

A Hometown Ghost Story

As I mentioned before, I love everything about Halloween, especially the spooky ghost stories that pop up again and again this time of year.  So grab a bottle of pumpkin beer, settle in, and enjoy!

Ok, you may have noticed that my last ghost story was low on actual ghosts.  Fair enough, but do you know how hard it is to find real, totally true ghosts stories?  If there were more of them, people wouldn’t always be telling their kids, “There’s no such thing as ghosts.” 

Hogwash, I say, and to prove it, this next story features a ghost who testifies in her own murder trial! For this story, we must go all the way to my own hometown of Portsmouth, Rhode Island.

This story takes place in the late 1600s, while Rhode Island was thriving British colony.  (Yeah, I said, “thriving colony,” not “den of heretics and criminals,” or “tiny, insignificant backwater.”  You got a problem with that?)  At the time, Portsmouth was a rural farming community, right close to the wealthy trading port of Newport, meaning you has some very rich families living there.  One of them was the Cornell family, led by the matriarch Rebecca Cornell.

Note to Google Images:  Different Cornell.

In her later years, she lived in her large (relatively speaking) house with her son and his wife.  One night, Rebecca was sitting by the fire, wrapped in a blanket to keep warm.  She had just fallen asleep when, supposedly, embers from the fire drifted out of the hearth and landed on her blanket.

Soon, her blanket, and consequently Rebecca herself, was engulfed in flames.  Before her son could respond to her screams for help and put out the fire, Rebecca was dead.  She was buried, and her son inherited the house and most of her estate.

Not too spooky, yet (except that bit about burning to death), but it seems Rebecca had a brother who lived in Newport, and shortly after her death, she came to visit her brother.

The ghost of Rebecca Cornell appeared to her brother, and told him that she had been murdered.  And not just murdered, but shot in the chest by her own son!

Then, according to the brother, she showed him the bullet wound on her chest.

This was a more superstitious time, so when Rebecca’s brother brought this “evidence” to the authorities, they did not laugh and throw him in the drunk tank, like they probably would today.  Instead, they exhumed the body, and found the bullet wound, right where the ghost had said it would be.

Rebecca’s son was arrested, tried, and execute for her murder.  He was supposedly buried not in the family plot with his mother, but ten feet away from the family house in an unmarked grave.

The house is still there, though it has been converted into a restaurant.  The whereabouts of Rebecca’s grave and her son’s grave are unknown.

Not pictured: the dead body buried under the driveway.

So, to sum up, a woman is killed by her own son, and he is arrested and execute for the crime, based solely on the testimony on her ghost.  This is the only case in the history of American law where a ghost has been admitted as evidence in a murder trial.  That means the next time people tell you ghosts aren’t real, tell them that even if ghosts aren’t real, they do have real legal standing!  Take that, Mythbusters!

Funny corollary: Thomas (Rebecca’s son) had a wife who was pregnant at the time of his execution.  She eventually moved to Fall River, where her daughter, Innocence Cornell, lived out her life, and whose descendants eventually married into the Borden family.  In other words, Lizzie Borden is a directly descendant of Rebecca Cornell.

We're not even trying, anymore.

Be back soon with more ghost stories!

Happy Halloween!

Time to get a little spoooooky

Well, it’s almost Halloween, which, as I’ve said before, is one of my favorite times of year. 

Why?

 The candy.  Obviously.

And as a close second, the ghost stories.

While I start getting the house ready with puffy paper ghosts and spiders and jack-o-lanterns, I thought I might pass a few down, nothing gruesome, just a little spine-tingling stories of the eerie and unexplained.  And all, hand-to-God, true.

So tuck the kids into bed, grab a homebrew, and enjoy!

Isn't it spoooooky?

Today, I thought, given the upcoming election, I might start with one about a former resident of the White House.

I know there is a legend about Lincoln’s ghost haunting the White House, but I’ve never seen it.  Ask Barack.  I’ll stick with the facts.  When Lincoln was alive, he was keenly aware of having some peculiar dreams, dreams he thought were trying to send him a message.

One such dream occurred in the early days of April, 1865.  In the dream, Lincoln found himself in the White House, but the house was dark, and quiet, except for a muffled sobbing.  He searched the house until he came to the room from which the sobbing emanated.  Inside, he found a coffin guarded by two soldiers, and a group of women in the corner, dressed in black.  He asked one of the soldiers, “Who is dead in the White House?”

The soldier responded, “Don’t you know?  It is the President.  He was killed by an assassin.”

Lincoln awoke, then, and was unable to sleep more that night.  About a week later, he took his seat in Ford’s Theater, and his place in history.

Hogwash, you say?  An invented story added to the memory of a fallen president?  Superstitious nonsense?  Perhaps, however…

Lincoln’s eldest son, Robert Todd Lincoln, served as General Grant’s aid during the Civil War, and distinguished himself as a smart and capable young man.  He went on to become Secretary of War under President James Garfield.  One night, after a cabinet meeting, Garfield asked Robert Lincoln about the story of his father’s dream, and Robert told it, just as I have.

The next day, while walking to catch a train to meet his wife, who was recovering from a grave illness, Garfield was shot in the back and soon after died.

I don’t know if Robert Lincoln thought this was a strange coincidence, though he was undoubtedly shaken by all the violence his life had so far seen.  Certainly, it was an eerie story to tell about being close to two fallen Presidents.

I have no proof that he told both these stories to some traveling companion while visiting the Pan-American Expedition in New York in 1901, on the same day that President McKinley was shot, while also visiting the fair.  But I like to think that’s what happened.

Because that would tie Lincoln’s prophetic dream to the deaths of three Presidents!

The moral of the story?                                                                                     

If you ever run into any of Lincoln’s descendants, don’t ask them about their dreams!

What’s your favorite tale of haunted presidents?

More true tales of the unexplained, coming soon!