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Washington should not control our saltwater fishing registry |
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Rep. Leila Percy, House Chair of Marine Resources
Exclusive to the Coastal Journal
In a recent column for this newspaper Rep. Kerri Prescott, a Topsham Republican, argued in favor of having the federal government control the state's saltwater fishing registry. It's a surprising position to take, especially if you've spent countless hours in the Marine Resources Committee, as she has as a member of the committee, over the past several months debating the topic. In that committee, we were all told by federal officials that if we didn't create a registry they would.
After getting an ultimatum, nine out of the 13 committee members, in a strong bi-partisan fashion, voted to design a registry that would keep the registry – control and funds— here at home at the lowest possible cost to Maine residents.
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Congress and citizens share failure for legislative process |
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by Lee Hamilton
Coastal Journal contributor
A newly released public opinion survey shows that neither Congress nor the citizenry is doing its job in getting the legislative process to work effectlvely.
The survey, conducted for the Center on Congress, found 77% disapproving of the way Congress is handling its job. And when asked, "Do you believe that the delays in Congress are due to serious differences on the issues, or that members just like to bicker and score political points?" 65% attributed delays to bickering.
But according to the survey, citizens also bear some responsibility for shortcomings in the functioning of Congress. Respondents gave citizens a D on "their understanding of what Congress does and how it works," a C-minus on "contacting members of Congress on issues that concern them" and a C on "following what is going on in Congress."
Only 25% of those surveyed said they had attended a public meeting in the past two years where one of their members of Congress was present.
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Beer: Relaxed vigilance |
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by Will Gottlieb
Coastal Journal staff
We are entering a season of excesses, of gorging and quaffing, of spending and regretting, a time when most people’s fat cells will “...go forth, multiply and be fruitful.” Most people gain from one to 10 pounds during the season, and a lot of that is accomplished with alcohol — not just the calories from your Gritty’s Christmas Ale or whatnot, but via the mechanism of relaxed vigilance.
Relaxed vigilance (as if you didn’t know) works like this: You go to a party with the intention of keeping your calories down, but you have that third drink and suddenly it’s “Hello, Sailor!” with every food platter in the room. You would normally sample just one or two deserts, but you suddenly realize that you haven’t had cherry pie in years, and that you haven’t had cherry pie with whipped cream in decades, and that you’ve never had cherry pie with whipped cream and vanilla ice cream and toffee sprinkles ever in your life, and — wait, where did all the pie go?
“And put a knife to thy throat, if thou be a man given to appetite,” Proverbs 23:2. This is not Solomon’s invitation to commit suicide — I hope — but more of an appeal for proactive self-control, like that scene from “Blazing Saddles,” where Cleavon Little holds a gun to his own head and says, “Somebody he’p me!” Of all the dumb things people have done to themselves and the people around them, the dumbest have been undertake after drinking too much booze.
An oft repeated story in my family is that of my paternal grandfather’s disappearance following a company Christmas party in Detroit. He had been missing for about 12 hours. Worried if not exactly mystified (this was not a rare occurrence), my grandma and my aunts made the rounds, checked the bars, called his friends, to no avail.
Then grandma called the cops. Have you seen my husband?
“We might have,” said the cop on the phone. “Describe him to me.”
She did.
“Okay,” said the cop, “does he go, ‘Whoop, whoop, whoop!’?”
Positive identification.
The punch line was that my grandfather had not been arrested for making funny noises; he had been arrested for urinating on the mayor’s front lawn.
Then there was the kid in my boot camp company who had his first beer on his first leave. I went to boot camp at NTC Orlando, and all the recruits went to Disney World for that first leave. This particular kid had been raised in perfect isolation by parents who feared he might one day have that first drink and do exactly what he wound up doing, which was to immediately have many more beers and get in trouble. He was arrested for exposing himself to children in a theater that was showing “Dumbo.” That was the end of his Navy career.
The upshot of all the above is, it’s good to know your limits. Most of the stories I know about alcohol abuse are not funny at all, and usually end with someone hovering over a commode late at night in a state of dreadful expectation — or, in far too many cases, someone in a casket, being lowered into the ground by friends and family. I know way too many of those stories. I have lost two uncles, one aunt, one cousin, one best friend, and a half-dozen acquaintances, all to drunk drivers, all in separate accidents. There’s nothing funny about this.
So do us all a favor, this holiday season: Don’t drink and drive, or at least limit your uptake to one drink per hour. Enjoy your beer — but don’t let it kill anybody. |
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