tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-82707797141067992012024-03-13T14:14:10.373-04:00Blog on a Half ShellDoug Norrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04988375985994422784noreply@blogger.comBlogger277125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8270779714106799201.post-91162235397511342182013-02-11T09:39:00.000-05:002013-02-11T09:39:12.466-05:00Half Shell on IceLike many Rhode Islanders, we here at Half Shell World HQ lost power Friday night. Our little frozen cove in West Barrington remains buried in snow. Until the lights and heat came back on at 7:43 last night, we bunkered in our drafty igloos with the geese and ducks of Allins Cove. For entertainment during the day we shoveled out mounds of Everest from our driveways and walkways and watched our breath form cloud animals inside our homes. Candles, battery lanterns, head lamps and solar lights allowed us to function at night. We slept fully clothed, under an avalanche of blankets and comforters. We conversed with neighbors, our frosted eyes peeking out of snowdrifts, trading news the old fashioned way - word of mouth, one shovel at a time. The hours blurred into little trials of survival: digging out, foraging for food, trying not to freeze. A few highlights: Trumpeting mute swans flying through the sideways snow of Winter Storm Nemo on the edge of the cove; afternoon sunshine splashing through windows the next day; a lunch of hot dogs and kielbasa at a neighbor's house; solving puzzles with friends by solar light; drinking cans of Pawtucket-based Foolproof's Backyahd IPA while reading a spy novel by candlelight; and listening to WPRO's Operation Snowball coverage.<br />
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The old transistor radio proves handy in times like these. And the callers, Rhode Islanders from all over the state, were so refreshing. Down-to-earth, good-humored, warm-hearted. Offering survival tips. Trading complaints. Giving hyper-local updates. Sharing their storm stories and only in Rhode Island moments: One man said he called the warming center number provided for Exeter. "The lady there said, 'I've lived in Rhode Island all my life, and I've never heard of Exeter,'" he told the show's host. How typically Rhode Island is that? You staff a statewide hot line with citizens of a state who've never been from one county to another. You'd have better luck finding out where the Exeter warming center is located by calling a number in Bangalore.<br />
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By Sunday, the situation hadn't improved, so I took a road trip to Whole Foods in Providence to stock up and recharge the batteries. Overheard there: "I went to Dunkin' Donuts," said one guy. "They ran out of donuts." His friend nodded: "Did they run out of Dunkin'?," he asked. WPRO callers continued to say they were getting by, although one woman spoke for many in the Ocean State when she said of her family, "We're kinda getting on each other's nerves." The day turned warm, and the neighborhood turned inside-out. A couple of snowmen waved their stick arms in the direction of Narragansett Bay. Somebody built a snow labyrinth in their yard. Evergreens sparkled, melting the white from their limbs.<br />
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As of this posting, there are still 20,000 Rhode Islanders without power. The Pope tried to steal the storm's thundersnow by announcing his resignation - no small headline in the country's most Catholic state. But at the end of the day this is still Rhode Island, where "the politics of snow," to quote a phrase from "The Mayor" Buddy Cianci, trumps everything else. Including the politics of the Vatican. Not for nothin', but we do seem to like a little drama with our weather. Hurricane Bob arrived here on the day of a hardline Kremlin Soviet coup in 1991. (It also happened to be my birthday, but that bit of history was pushed to the back pages.)<br />
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Nemo is Latin for "No Man" or "No One," meaning the Blizzard of 2013 will be forever known as "No Man's Storm" or "No One's Storm." It was described by National Grid as "a multi-day event." You know. Like the Olympics. Only most Rhode Islanders aren't willing to hand out many gold medals. <br />
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Inevitably, between bouts of figuring out where to put the snow and enduring 9-degree cold, talk turned to the Blizzard of '78. Comparisons were made. Old stories were retold. One thing the old-timers said over and over, all around the neighborhood: "This never woulda happened with Narragansett Electric."<br />
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<i>What was your Nemo story?</i>Doug Norrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04988375985994422784noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8270779714106799201.post-33825291819783138992013-01-28T10:52:00.000-05:002013-01-28T10:52:39.137-05:00On the Rhode AgainI’ve traveled to Arctic, Hope, Moscow, Wyoming, Berkeley, Wyoming, Carolina, Galilee and Jerusalem, but never saw any narwhals, the Clinton Library, KGB, Big Sky, hippie professors, James Taylor or the Lord’s disciples. All of those villages exist in Rhode Island, an eclectic mix of exotic locales variously centered around wiener joints, junkyard dogs and rock crabs.<br />
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Most Rhode Islanders rarely leave the armchair to travel. To them, Manville in Lincoln is a village of survivalist Paul Bunyan-types, where football is played every day, cheap beer and hot wings are served for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and the local library is stocked only with back issues of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue. Locustville in Hopkinton invites the plague every seven years or so. Everybody wears plate armor in the Cranston burg of Knightsville. The West Greenwich villages of Nooseneck and Nooseneck Hill were so named to keep people from East Greenwich from ever visiting. Monks escaped persecution in Cumberland in the village of Abbot Run. Rhode Island hair stylists all serve an apprenticeship in the Hopkinton village of Barberville. “Beowulf” was required reading for first graders residing in the former hamlet of Saxonville (Burrillville). Noah’s second home was Arkwright in Coventry. People still squeeze the Charmin in the Burrillville village of Whipple. To this day, the Smithfield village of Stillwater celebrates its military victory over rival neighbors in Fizzywater. Residents in Clayville (Scituate-Foster) walk with a strangely animated, stop-motion gait. According to the latest census, there are no Clydes in Clyde, a village in West Warwick. We have also learned that there were slaves in Liberty (Exeter), not everyone is happy in Harmony (Glocester) and sap runs amok in Mapleville (Burrillville).<br />
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From Moosup Valley to Diamond Hill, Bristol Ferry to Summit, Hopkins Hollow to Watch Hill, Rhode Island villages evoke mystery and history, even though many of them today are little more than overgrown cemeteries squeezed between a convenience store and a Dunkin’ Donuts. Some are named for prominent features: Lime Rock, White Rock, Greystone, Rocky Brook. Dozens are derivatives of Narragansett and Wampanoag terms, including Apponaug (“where he roasts oysters”), Chepachet (“devil’s bag”) and Escoheag (“this is as far as the spear-fishing goes”).<br />
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And then there are the districts: Graniteville in Johnston (where there was a lot of granite); Frenchtown in East Greenwich (where there were a lot of French); Merino in Johnston (where there were a lot of sheep); Fruit Hill in North Providence (where people tossed their bananas); Rumford in East Providence (where pirates retired); Sand Dam in Chepachet (where beavers eschewed mud for drywall); Tiverton Four Corners in Tiverton (where people never figured out what to call a crossroad); and Hamlet in Woonsocket (where there was a lot of Shakespearean drama). <br />
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Few people have heard of these places because the great travel writers – the likes of V.S. Naipaul, Jan Morris, Pico Iyer, Bruce Chatwin, Paul Theroux and Eric Newby – never bothered to visit. The great Rhode Island travel book – “Out of Annawamscutt” or “In Ponaganset” – has yet to be written.<br />
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<i>What is your favorite Rhode Island travel story?<br />
</i><br />
[Blogger’s note: With apologies to my reader (we really do have to get you a name), after today Half Shell will clam up for the unforeseeable future. We’re taking our notebook and heading to South Africa for a few weeks. The rest is unknown. If you’d like, you can follow our adventures under our alias travel blog, <a href="http://www.clamsgotlegs.wordpress.com">Clams Got Legs</a>, which will be revived in February, with the goal to post at least once a week. Until we link again, keep it raw…]<br />
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Doug Norrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04988375985994422784noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8270779714106799201.post-6572535672273950982013-01-21T11:17:00.000-05:002013-01-21T11:17:23.468-05:00Oysters and GaggersA hot, soft, salted pretzel purchased from a street vendor near Madison Square Garden on 34th St., slathered in mustard, the size of a small Frisbee, was my breakfast Saturday morning. Eating it on the run, trying to make my appointment, put me in a New York frame of mind. It was a bright, breezy winter’s day. But even mild weather cuts a little deeper in Manhattan, where cold winds whip around the severe corners of skyscrapers that block the sun, keeping light and heat from reaching you in the grid of concrete and steel that fancies itself as the world’s greatest city.<br />
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Earlier, upon exiting Grand Central Station, the first sound I heard was a honking taxi. The driver was trying to scatter pedestrians, who were using the crosswalk legally – according to the symbol of the little white man at the stoplight, indicating it was time to cross. But that didn’t matter to the cabbie. He tried to drive through them. A few of the walkers told him to attempt something that was anatomically impossible for anyone not named Gumby. Then they pounded the back of his cab to emphasize the point. The cabbie yelled back. The passenger in the back seat clutched her purse and stared out the window with wild-eyed terror. The moment passed. The streets erupted in a chorus of honking cabs and ambulance sirens, and before long the sounds of beeping construction trucks and jackhammers completed the familiar Gotham soundtrack. In the midst of the cacophony, my dripping pretzel struck an authentic New York note.<br />
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Later that afternoon, while waiting for the 4:07 to New Haven, I found a counter seat at the Grand Central Station Oyster Bar and blurred the distance between New York and Rhode Island before the train trip by ordering a platter of oysters – Beavertails, Watch Hills and Moonstones – all from South County. They were so good I decided to detour to Massachusetts – Wellfleets, Martha’s Vineyards and Cotuits. Naked Cowboys from Long Island, Witch Ducks from Virginia and French Kisses from Nova Scotia completed the tour. I paid, left the counter, and gave up my seat to the person standing behind me. The city never sleeps, but a lot of its waking time is spent waiting in line.<br />
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Supper was wieners. Three, all the way, at a wiener joint in East Providence, after the train ride and drive back. They don’t have Coney Island Systems or New York Systems in New York, of course, which was part of the appeal of dining there that night. While I waited, I read the menu. Wieners, also called “gaggers,” “belly busters” or “missiles,” come in 30-foot links, which are then chopped into their four-inch eating shapes. There’s also a name for a wiener served without the wiener. It’s called an “air dog,” and is simply the soft white steamed bun with mustard, meat sauce, chopped onions and celery salt. Rhode Islanders have a strange obsession with doughy white bread-like foods, whether accompanying chow mein sandwiches (chow mein on a hamburger bun), grinders, doughboys or strip pizza. It’s the only state in the country where the Wonder Bread trucks parked at the Hostess Bakery Outlet in Warwick don’t look like something that popped out of a time machine.<br />
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At Sparky’s, unlike my experience at the oyster bar, this time I was the only customer at the counter. In fact, I was the only person in the entire joint, except for the grill man, who said that he could usually count on a late-night crowd (it’s open until 3 a.m. on weekends) but added that it has been dead so far in January. He asked if I wanted a drink. I asked if I could have water. He said, “As long as the Scituate Reservoir hasn’t run out.” We talked about old times. I remembered a night at Sparky’s years ago, where the counter crowd included an albino, a midget, a transvestite and a thin, scarred man covered in leather, tattoos and piercings. Those were the days of three gaggers for a dollar and music played on vinyl. For under five bucks you could make a night out of a bottomless cup of coffee, an arm of wieners and a jukebox.<br />
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<i>What’s your favorite food memory?<br />
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Doug Norrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04988375985994422784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8270779714106799201.post-47709412326108145972013-01-14T13:12:00.000-05:002013-01-14T13:12:03.272-05:00Next Stop, New EnglandvilleThree Rhode Island locations – all from South County - were chosen for Yankee Magazine’s 2013 January/February cover story, “New Englandville: The Town of Our Dreams.” In this Norman Rockwellian view of New England utopia, Dave’s Coffee of Charlestown, Allie’s Donuts of North Kingstown and the Alternative Food Co-op of Wakefield all make the cut. So where’s Daddy’s Bread (Matunuck), the self-serve bakery stand where people pay by the honor system, sometimes leaving IOUs to be squared during a later visit? Or Jim’s Dock (Jerusalem), a restaurant on a dock overlooking Salt Pond where customers park behind one another and leave their keys in their cars, in case departing diners need to move them? Or the Middle of Nowhere Diner (Exeter), which really is in the middle of nowhere? (The only way I ever find it is by getting lost.)<br />
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Today’s fog-shrouded morning would qualify for a day in New Englandville, along with those accompanying scenes of mute swans drifting in the mist, winter hawks visiting a newspaper building parking lot and wild turkeys sleeping off their dewy hangovers in front of a Portsmouth funeral home.<br />
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Let’s face it, here in New Englandville we enjoy our self-congratulatory excursions in idealizing and nostalgia. The continued existence of Yankee Magazine during an age when many glossy periodicals – Newsweek included – have gone the way of the carrier pigeon is proof of that. But the underlying truth of these kinds of stories is that we may over-celebrate what we believe is authentic about New England because we fear what we are losing, or perhaps what we are becoming. Throughout the six-state region, strip malls and tacky developments are replacing horse farms. Vermont country stores are as rare as Vermont covered bridges. Closer to home, Main Street in Wakefield – like Main Streets throughout New England – lost its fish market and village butcher shop. The former became a trendy wood-fired pizzeria. The latter has sat empty for over a year.<br />
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New developments try to create their own sense of New Englandville, turning open space into planned communities of shops and homes made of shingle or white clapboard, sprinkled with stonewalls and steeples, and intersected by roads named for the habitat, wildlife and landscape features they replaced. In my neighborhood, Lavin’s Marina (now Lighthouse Marina) is being developed into a small community called Lighthouse Cove. There is a lighthouse, way out there in Narragansett Bay, but you won’t be able to see it from the houses, which are blocked by other houses. But the marketing version of New England will always choose a lighthouse over a Lavin. Advertising will always go for the aura of authenticity rather than the real thing. There should be a word for that. Let’s call it fauxthentic.<br />
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<i>What Rhode Island destination belongs in New Englandville?<br />
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Doug Norrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04988375985994422784noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8270779714106799201.post-27596618119823378782013-01-07T11:39:00.000-05:002013-01-07T11:39:52.246-05:00Slow News DayIn a recent edition of The Improper Bostonian, comedian Steven Wright was interviewed and asked the following question: “Would you consider yourself neurotic, and does comedy come from a dark place?”<br />
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His answer: “I’m extremely neurotic, and personally, I think comedy should come from Rhode Island.”<br />
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Well, it does, of course. Frequently. Ever since wampum, slavery and rum-running, comedy has been our stock in trade. Consider the following news items from last year:<br />
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The owner of a cursing cockatoo from Warwick is appealing a noise ordinance fine after her neighbor complained that the bird spews vulgar phrases and profanity all day. What makes this a Rhode Island story is that the neighbor lives with the cockatoo owner's ex-husband.<br />
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A dog survived a ride from Massachusetts to Rhode Island after being hit by a car and getting stuck in its grille. The driver of a Toyota Camry saw the dog crossing the road in Taunton, Mass., and braked, but felt and heard nothing and assumed it somehow escaped harm once it disappeared from view. He drove 50 miles per hour down Route 44 to East Providence, when he was finally flagged down by another motorist, who told him that he had a dog in his grille. The white poodle-bichon mix survived with minor injuries and no broken bones, by clinging onto the bumper. What makes this a Rhode Island story is contemplating how many motorists and pedestrians the driver must've passed during the 11-mile journey that didn't notice a live dog hanging on for dear life to the front of a speeding Camry.<br />
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In North Providence, four policeman are being investigated for making five boys do pushups on the side of the road as their punishment for damaging a mailbox. What makes this a Rhode Island story is the cops never even once considered making the delinquents follow up with crunches.<br />
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The State of Rhode Island and Providence Plantations finally eliminated a law from the books that, once enacted in 1989, instantly made all Rhode Islanders criminals (instead of making us earn it). The law, as written, prevented any Rhode Islander from fibbing on the Internet. So any e-mails, online chat discussions, Facebook posts, Tweets and, yes, even blog posts since then containing a single white lie could have resulted in prosecution. What makes this a Rhode Island story is that lawmakers originally thought the measure would stop fraudsters, con artists and scammers, which make up the bulk of our population. Those same lawmakers knew they had failed when they tried online dating and realized that nobody looks like their picture.<br />
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And then there was this Only in Rhode Island story from 2012:<br />
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In December, a husband and wife from Lincoln each got arrested for DUI on the same night. The woman was stopped in Cranston. The husband was pulled over in Lincoln for a motor vehicle violation on his way to pick her up.<br />
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<i>What was the funniest news story ever to come out of Rhode Island?<br />
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Doug Norrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04988375985994422784noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8270779714106799201.post-82597173222085351712012-12-28T13:26:00.000-05:002012-12-28T13:26:24.965-05:00Dropping the BallWith the possible exception of Valentine’s Day, few holidays on the American calendar cause as much angst and apathy as New Year’s Eve. For most of us, it is a chore to eat and drink too much and stay up too late yet again after what is a seemingly endless stretch of feasting, shopping and stressing since Thanksgiving.<br />
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Still, as much as I would like to join “the band of tatterdemalions” known as the Banished Fools during Bright Night Providence, and mingle among the monster puppets of Big Nazo and bang a drum or blow a horn with the Extraordinary Rendition Band, and wake up the next morning to jump into Narragansett Bay with various Polar Bears, Penguins and Scuppers, I’ll be up in moose country instead, wearing antlers instead of a jester’s hat.<br />
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But before I head north, I’d like to propose something for next year. Why not shift the New Year to March, where it used to be? <br />
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As established, the holiday comes too soon after Christmas and Thanksgiving to be given the respectful indulgence it deserves. In fact, it convolutes the Christmas season, occurring in the middle its 12 feast days and rendering insignificant the celebration of Twelfth Night on Jan. 6. <br />
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For centuries many cultures, including the Mesopotamians, who are credited with giving us the first New Year’s bash (with party favors and resolutions printed in Sanskrit), started the year with the vernal equinox – the beginning of spring. (Some cultures – Egyptians, Phoenicians, Persians and Celts among them – began the year in autumn, while the Greeks started during the winter solstice.) The ancient Romans, after centuries of cheering the New Year on March 1, moved the holiday when they created the months of January and February for the Julian calendar, although many Romans continued to celebrate in March. Medieval religious leaders later abolished Jan. 1 as the New Year, moving it to Christmas Day, to honor the birth of Christ. The Gregorian calendar reestablished the January date in 1582, although the British Empire – including its colonies in America – kept partying in March until 1752.<br />
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So maybe it’s time to go back to March to start the calendar. The only down side is that we would end every year with the darkest, coldest months, with only valentines, groundhogs and college basketball to cheer us up. But on the plus side, by the time New Year's Eve arrived in March, the hangover might actually be worth it.<br />
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This week’s question: <i>What is the best way to celebrate the New Year in Rhode Island?<br />
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</i><i>[Blogger’s note: Early post this week, given the impending trip to the Granite State. Rest in peace, Dick Clark.]<br />
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Doug Norrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04988375985994422784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8270779714106799201.post-43300532290061793242012-12-24T10:23:00.000-05:002012-12-24T10:23:00.123-05:00Ornamentally RhodySo Olivia Culpo, the Cranston cellist who became the first Rhode Islander to win the Miss USA Pageant, went on to win the Miss Universe Pageant. We’re left wondering what’s next for Ms. Culpo? Is there a Miss Space-Time Continuum Pageant? <br />
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Anyway, she leads this year’s list of Rhode Island ornament-worthy figures, for the Christmas (or holiday) tree in your household:<br />
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<b>12 Rhody Ornaments for the 12 Days of Christmas<br />
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1) An Olivia Culpo action figure, dressed in Miss Rhode Island, Miss USA and Miss Universe sashes, inserted into the shape of a nebula in honor of her latest accomplishment. Glitter color to match the sparkle on her evening gown.<br />
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2) An Elizabeth Beisel talking action figure, crooning a reworked “Silver and Gold” as “Silver and Bronze,” in honor of the two swimming medals the North Kingstown native won this summer during the London Olympics.<br />
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3) The R.I. State House in a snow globe, with a scene of an evergreen in the rotunda, wrapped in a banner that says “This is NOT a holiday tree” or “Even if this is a Christmas tree the state recognizes it as a holiday tree because it is meant to represent all Rhode Islanders, not just Christians or those who celebrate Christmas.” Your choice.<br />
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4) The Big Blue Bug with its antennae lit green and red.<br />
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5) A frosted pumpkin in honor of the two-ton giant world-record-holding gourd grown by Ron Wallace of Greene and weighed in October.<br />
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6) A white Styrofoam ball with “I O U $112.6 MILLION” written in black magic marker in honor of the 38 Studios debacle, in which Curt Schilling’s video game company bankruptcy left Rhode Island taxpayers holding the bill.<br />
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7) Two new Christmas characters – Foster the Fisher Cat and Cranston the Bear – in honor of the sudden abundance of fishers and bruins in the Ocean State. Fishers are suddenly everywhere, depleting the skunk and squirrel populations, while a big black bear was a visitor to the streets of Cranston in October, presumably to indulge in a few boxes of Calvitto’s and Crugnale’s party pizza.<br />
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8) Matunuck sand in an hourglass, in honor of the increased battering and erosion along the Rhody coast thanks to more frequent and intense storms during this era of climate weirdness. Save the sand. It may be all we have to remember Matunuck by someday.<br />
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9) Two gingerbread brown pelicans, in honor of the North Carolina birds blown all the way to Rhode Island by Hurricane Sandy. The pelicans were discovered at Fisherman’s Memorial State Park in Narragansett and were treated at the Wildlife Rehabilitators Association of Rhode Island in Saunderstown before flying (on a private plane) to more natural habitat in Florida. <br />
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10) Heads-you-win, tails-you-lose, gold coin in honor of the R.I. casino ballot measure that was approved in Lincoln but rejected in Newport in November.<br />
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11) Mini-accordion, to replace the traditional harp among the popcorn and cranberry garland, in honor of Cumberland’s Cory Pelaturo, World Digital Accordion Champion.<br />
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12) Calico lobster, an ornament that doubles as a bottle opener, in honor of the latest 30 million-to-one crustacean to be hauled out Rhode Island waters earlier this spring in Newport. Makes a great companion piece to last year’s dangling yellow lobster.<br />
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<i>What 2012 Rhode Island ornament belongs on your Christmas tree?<br />
</i>Doug Norrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04988375985994422784noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8270779714106799201.post-10101062426821734842012-12-17T11:35:00.000-05:002012-12-17T11:35:22.004-05:00Eating Rhody (Holiday Edition)Chowder in the pot was ready when we arrived at an early Christmas party in Bristol, a clammy concoction that began with a base from Blount Seafood in Warren, accentuated by clams, potatoes and seasonings from the homeowner’s kitchen. The buffet included blade meat and chourico and peppers, fortified with port wine, served in grinder rolls, a nod to the Portuguese heritage on the East Bay. Italian influences on the menu included strip pizza, homemade calzones and antipastos. <br />
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The story of Rhode Island could be told through its food. This is especially true during the holidays, when cooking and eating traditions are cultural, regional and personal. French-Canadians settling in Woonsocket brought the tourtiere, a pie made of ground pork (and sometimes beef), onions, mashed potatoes and seasonings to the region, where it is a staple in the local luncheonette culture. As John Larrabee points out in an appetizing article in this week’s Providence Phoenix, every recipe is different, with seasonings that “can include clove, allspice, cinnamon, nutmeg or sage,” and the merits of individual pies are debated at counters from Castle Luncheonette to Barbara’s Place to Paul’s Family Restaurant. To many Rhode Islanders from the northwestern part of the state, the pies taste and smell of Christmas.<br />
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On the other side of the world, down in southwestern Rhody, families in the villages of Westerly engage in their own Christmas holiday tradition – making soupy. The spiced pork sausage more formally known as sopressata is the product of its own distinct ritual. Clan members of Italian American families and their closest friends will gather in homes and social clubs to fill the casings during the yuletide season. The sausages then hang overwinter (usually in somebody’s basement) before they are ready to eat sometime around St. Patrick’s Day.<br />
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What the tourtiere and the soupy have in common, aside from pork fillings and their uber-local Rhode Island pedigree, is that each depends upon the all-important “secret recipe” to distinguish one family’s dish from another. Some are scrawled on index cards and locked away in safety deposit boxes. Others exist only in the cook’s head (and maybe the head of whomever the cook has entrusted with the recipe down the line). Like parking spaces in Boston or watering holes in New Hampshire, these secrets are revealed upon penalty of death or exile. Sometimes it’s worth the risk. Anyone who has ever eaten a stuffy to die for will know what I’m talking about. <br />
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<i>What special foods do you associate with the holidays in Rhode Island?<br />
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Doug Norrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04988375985994422784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8270779714106799201.post-60184199385233670152012-12-10T10:42:00.000-05:002012-12-10T10:42:28.565-05:00Big Bang TheoryCall it the Phantom Boom. The Mystery Blast. The Barrington Bang. The Warwick Whatwasthat?<br />
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Last Monday residents of the East Bay’s Barrington and West Bay’s Warwick reported hearing an explosion at 11:30 p.m. with most describing it as a single, loud bang. I slept through it, having gone to bed a half-hour earlier, where I was presumably immersed in “Inception”-like REM dream sleep. Nothing was going to wake me up. But several neighbors and friends jolted out of their slumber or reveries and bolted out of their homes to investigate. Most thought someone’s house had blown up in a gas explosion. Others worried that a plane had crashed. Some reports added the detail of a mysterious light that flashed once and disappeared. Speculation was rampant the following day on the local radio talk shows. Meteorite? Sonic boom? UFO? It was all anyone wanted to talk about. A friend of mine, who lives across the street, was convinced that a body would wash ashore in a day or so, proving her theory that someone was murdered by gunshot in the middle of the bay.<br />
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Officials investigating the incident eventually concluded that it defied explanation. My own crazy theory? Some kind of long-dormant depth charge, torpedo or mine – dropped during the days when Nazi subs (or, later, Soviet subs) routinely prowled Narragansett Bay – suddenly went kablooey. You’ll see the occasional dud explosive hauled up from time to time by trawlers plowing the bay. Otherwise, I’m just glad to know that when Armageddon strikes, I can hit the snooze button.<br />
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<i>What do you think caused the Narragansett Bay mystery blast?<br />
</i>Doug Norrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04988375985994422784noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8270779714106799201.post-51467032782408673632012-12-03T12:05:00.001-05:002012-12-03T12:05:33.326-05:00Tinsel TimeA blue snowflake hangs over Hope Street in Bristol now, a town otherwise decorated in mostly golden light on December nights. In neighboring Warren, bare branches and stark poles along Main Street are illuminated in electric colors while staid Barrington, just down the road, insists on stately (or pretentious, depending on your point of view) white phosphorescence.<br />
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Along Route 114, evergreens bound by rope are being sold in convenience store parking lots. Giant, one-story inflatables – of snowmen, reindeer, Santas – pop up here and there, dominating postage-stamp sized front yards. By day they are strewn across their lawns like gutted whale carcasses. Many of these yards just recently contained large signs supporting political candidates. (What happens to those, by the way? Christmas bonfire fodder?) Inflatable Christmas, like Inflatable Halloween – with its bungalow-sized ghosts and witches – is a relatively recent addition to holiday kitsch. Let’s hope Inflatable Political Campaigns never become in vogue. It’s one thing to stare at a 10-foot Nutcracker full of hot air. Not sure I’d appreciate the same view of someone running for School Committee.<br />
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Judging by the early lighting in the cove, those icicle lights are passé, but there are more blowup candy canes in the mix. Cardboard and light bulb nativities are scattered around the neighborhood, mingling crèches, camels and the Baby Jesus with snowmen and reindeer and elves from Santa’s Workshop. There was a time when this chaos of color and Christmas character mishmash rankled, but now I appreciate any effort to celebrate the season and light the night. Most of the decoration is hung in good spirit, if not in good taste. Which reminds me. It’s time to drag Christmas Lobster back out of the closet.<br />
<br />
<i>What is your favorite tacky Christmas decoration?<br />
</i>Doug Norrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04988375985994422784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8270779714106799201.post-56092306575205886872012-11-26T11:27:00.001-05:002012-11-26T11:27:37.826-05:00Puritan ChicWhile the rest of the country turned Thanksgiving into Thanksgetting, three New England states – including Yours Rhody – never left the table to go to the mall. One of the few Colonial-era blue laws still on the books preventing merchants from operating their business on the holiday meant itchy shoppers in Rhode Island, Maine and Massachusetts had to crank up the hard drive or drive to New Hampshire to go bargain hunting while they were still digesting their turkey.<br />
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Score one for the Puritans.<br />
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This particular blue law, like most of the others, will likely not stand the test of time. One way or another Americans are going to demand to exercise their right to stand in line in the cold on a sacred day to save $50 on the latest iThingamabob instead of spending a few hours sharing stories with family and friends and expressing gratitude for their lives. So be it, but it was nice to enjoy a consumer-free Thanksgiving for at least one more year.<br />
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For one glorious late-autumn Thursday in three New England states, Thanksgiving was as it should be. Here’s hoping Puritan Rhody, Maine and Massachusetts can find a way to keep this blue law on the books. Otherwise, we’ll be like every other state in America, wishing people a “Happy Walmartgiving” every November.<br />
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This week’s question: <i>Should Rhode Island change the blue law preventing retailers from conducting business on Thanksgiving?<br />
</i>Doug Norrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04988375985994422784noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8270779714106799201.post-10890504804145205442012-11-19T12:02:00.000-05:002012-11-19T12:02:47.394-05:00Sporting RhodyA new minor league sports team based in Rhode Island promoted its inaugural season under at tent yesterday at The Mews “Beer N Geer 5K” race in Wakefield. The <a href="http://www.rhodeislandkingfish.com">Rhode Island Kingfish </a>will be competing in the North American Lacrosse League this season. Box lacrosse – like indoor soccer and arena football – is an indoor version of a game traditionally played outdoors. It uses fewer players, features more scoring and relies heavily on mascots and promotions to draw fans. Good luck to them, but you wonder why they chose the moniker “kingfish?” That’s hardly a species that one commonly associates with Rhode Island.<br />
<br />
Why not select one of the two top <a href="http://www.visitrhodeisland.com/what-to-do/fishing/">sport fish in the Ocean State </a>– striped bass or bluefish? The Rhody Stripers or the Rhody Blues? In the latter case, the team could tie in the state’s predominant symbolic color along with its illustrious blues music history. Or go with the many sharks that patrol the local waters: The Rhode Island Hammerheads has a nice box lacrosse ring to it. <br />
<br />
Back in the days when Providence was a major league city, Rhode Island rubbed shoulders with Boston and New York in the sportingverse. It had franchises in the National League of Major League Baseball, National Football League and National Basketball Association. (Our capital city never cracked the National Hockey League, but the Providence Reds were a flagship minor league franchise from 1926 to 1977, drawing well for many years despite being affiliated with the New York Rangers and not the Boston Bruins. The team also won four Calder Cups.) Even Newport held its own, with golf and tennis championships that inaugurated the U.S. Open in both sports, although these days the golf event is nomadic and the tennis tourney was hijacked to Long Island.<br />
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The Providence Grays played from 1878 to 1885 and won the National League championship twice (1879, 1884). The club played its home games at the Messer Street Grounds in the Olyneville neighborhood. The 1884 champs accepted a challenge from the New York Metropolitans of the rival American Association. Providence traveled to the Polo Grounds and swept the Metropolitans on their home ground, playing by AA league roles, forbidding overhand pitching. “Old Hoss” Radbourne pitched all three games for the Grays. By virtue of that victory, many baseball historians consider Providence to be the first official World Series champion.<br />
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Another short-lived but reasonably successful professional team was the Providence Steam Roller, a member of the NFL from 1925 to 1931. The Steam Roller, whose team colors were black, orange and white, played most of their home games in a stadium built for bicycle races called the Cycledrome. The team was invited to join the league after a decade of domination as the best independent team in the country. They were the first New England team to win an NFL championship (1928), a feat that didn’t get duplicated until the New England Patriots won its first Super Bowl in 2002. The Steam Roller nickname lives on in a bold blend of coffee produced by a Pawtucket coffee roaster called New Harvest.<br />
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The last of the pro sports franchises from one of the Big Four (baseball, football, hockey and basketball) to be based in Rhode Island, the Providence Steamrollers were one of the original NBA teams, but their three seasons produced mostly lowlights. They still hold the record for fewest wins in a season (6) and their all-time record of 46-122 left them with a lifetime .274 winning percentage. Their team colors were red, white and black and they played to sparse crowds at the old “Aud,” the Rhode Island Auditorium, which was packed for games played by their winter brethren, the minor league Reds.<br />
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One notch above the Reds, the most successful Rhody sports franchise remains the Pawtucket Red Sox, whose home games at McCoy Stadium are a quintessential part of a Rhode Island summer. (This year’s PawSox team even won its third International League championship.) The Providence Bruins have one Calder Cup and a steady fan base since becoming the minor league affiliate for the Boston Bruins in 1992. But without the Boston connection, Rhody pro sports teams don’t last long. The Rhode Island Oceaneers, an American Soccer League club, won the league championship in its charter season of 1974 but had disbanded by 1978. The team may be gone, but its nickname lives on as the best ever to come out of Rhode Island.<br />
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<i>What would be a good name for the next sports team to play in Rhode Island? <br />
</i>Doug Norrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04988375985994422784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8270779714106799201.post-48980758654342450562012-11-12T13:25:00.000-05:002012-11-12T13:25:44.568-05:00Home Is Where The Haunt IsHere’s a list of things I like about lists:<br />
<br />
1) They’re easy to compile.<br />
2) They spark conversation.<br />
3) They’re fun to cross out.<br />
4) When you’re sitting in a coffee shop, working on a list, it looks like you’re writing a novel, even though you’re only reminding yourself to go to the bank and pick up the dry cleaning.<br />
5) You can turn them into columns and blog posts.<br />
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There’s no shame in this. Some of the world’s most important writings have come to us in list form. (Consider the Ten Commandments, which is basically just a To-Don’t List, etched on stone tablets.)<br />
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So today I thought I’d share a list of someone else’s invention. My favorite Rhode Island-based list of recent vintage appeared in a book titled <a href="http://www.historypress.net">“Rhode Island Legends: Haunted Hallows and Monsters’ Lairs”</a> by South County author M.E. Reilly-McGreen. It’s her list of the most unusual haunts in the Ocean State. Given that politics, weather and a midweek date on the calendar muted the annual New England Halloween festivities in many communities, I thought it would be worth passing along while the days are getting darker and the November landscape turns skeletal.<br />
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Here’s Marybeth’s field guide to Rhode Island legends:<br />
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ALIENS (BEST BETS): Wood River Junction, Providence, Newport County, Cumberland<br />
BIGFOOT: the Great Swamp, South Kingstown<br />
BLEEDING ROCKS: Indian Corner, Slocumville, North Kingstown<br />
CLASSICAL GODS AND GODDESSES AT PLAY: Narragansett Beach, Narragansett; Worden’s Pond, South Kingstown<br />
CRYING ROCKS: Child Crying Rocks, Charlestown<br />
CURSED MATCHING THRONES: the Salt Chairs of Belcourt Castle, Newport<br />
THE DEVIL: Devil’s Hole, Woonsocket; Devil’s Ring, Peace Dale<br />
THE DEVIL’S HOOFPRINT: Devil’s Foot Rock, North Kingstown; Purgatory Chasm, Middletown<br />
FAIRIES: Worden’s Pond, South Kingstown<br />
FLESH-EATING VEGETATION: Roger William’s Root, Providence<br />
GHOSTS OF FAMOUS HORROR WRITERS: Edgar Allan Poe, Benefit Street, Providence; H.P. Lovecraft, Barnes Street and Swan Point Cemetery, Providence<br />
GIANT WOLVES AND BLACK SHUCK: Devil’s Hole, Woonsocket; Fort Wetherill, Jamestown; Wolf Rocks, Exeter; Wolf Bog, Peace Dale<br />
HAUNTED ASYLUMS: the Ladd Center, Exeter<br />
HAUNTED HOLY SITES: the Monastery, Cumberland<br />
HAUNTED MILLS: Slater Mill, Pawtucket; Ramtail Factory, Foster; Mooresfield Road, Kingston<br />
HAUNTED WEDDING VENUES: Sprague Mansion, Cranston<br />
HEADLESS GHOST HORSE: Belmont Avenue, Wakefield<br />
GHOST REGIMENTS: Route 138, Kingston; Hessian Hole, Portsmouth<br />
GHOST SHIPS: Beavertail, Jones’s Ledge, Jamestown; Grave’s Point, Jamestown; the <i>Seabird</i>, Newport; the <i>Palantine</i>, Block Island<br />
HEADLESS HUMAN GHOSTS: Indian Corner, North Kingstown; Mooresfield Road, South Kingstown<br />
IT: Dark Swamp, Chepachet<br />
JEWELRY-WEARING GIANT SERPENTS: Wilson’s Woods, South Kingstown; Carbuncle Pond, Coventry<br />
MOANING BONES: Arcadia, Narragansett<br />
ORBS: Charlestown<br />
PIRATES’ GHOSTS: Gravelly Point, Newport<br />
PIRATES’ TREASURE: Block Island; Sugarloaf Hill, South Kingstown<br />
POSSESSED PAINTINGS: Kingston Free Library, Kingston<br />
SAINTS’ RELICS: Rough Point, Newport<br />
SEA MONSTERS: Block Island; Point Judith, Narragansett<br />
SKELETONS IN ARMOR: Old Stone Mill, Newport<br />
SKULKING MONKS: Belcourt Castle, Newport; Nine Men’s Misery, Cumberland<br />
SOLDIERS’ SPIRITS: Hessian Hole, Portsmouth; Kingston village; Nine Men’s Misery, Cumberland<br />
TRAGIC MAIDENS’ SPIRITS: Hannah Robinson, Hannah Robinson’s Tower and Rock, South Kingstown; Dolly Cole, Dolly Cole’s Brook, Foster; Angela O’Leary, Fleur de Lys House, Providence<br />
VAMPIRES: Chestnut Hill Cemetery, Exeter; Mooresfield, South Kingstown; Plain Meeting House, West Greenwich; the Shunned House, Benefit Street, Providence<br />
WAILING KNIGHT: Belcourt Castle, Newport<br />
WAILING WOMAN: The Crying Bog, Narragansett<br />
WANDERING WRAITHS: Dorothy’s Hollow, Narragansett<br />
WEREWOLVES: the Great Swamp, Charlestown; Woonsocket; Watson’s Corner, South Kingstown<br />
WITCHES: Benefit Street, Providence; Chestnut Hill Cemetery, Exeter; Hell Hollow, North Kingstown; Hopkins Hill, East Greenwich; Kettle Hollow, North Kingstown; Ministerial Woods, South Kingstown; Witches Altar, Narragansett; Westerly<br />
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<i>What is your favorite haunted hot spot in Rhode Island?<br />
</i>Doug Norrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04988375985994422784noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8270779714106799201.post-12496406569381064902012-11-05T11:18:00.001-05:002012-11-05T11:18:35.044-05:00Adventures at the Ballot Box<blockquote><i>Life in parts of America may soon be easier for gays, gamblers, hunters, potheads, euthanisers, car-insurance salesmen, grammarians and horses.<br />
</i><br />
</blockquote>That's how The Economist cogently summed up America's 2012 trip to the ballot box. Tomorrow's vote will decide the next U.S. President, but Rhody and the Other 49 have their own problems to worry about. Taking another look at the quote that begins this post, we Rhode Islanders find ourselves, not for the first or last time, lumped in with "gamblers." <br />
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Questions 1 and 2 ask us to decide whether Twin River and Newport Grand should be allowed to introduce table games - blackjack, roulette, craps, poker - moving Rhody closer to a casino royale culture. If it passes, maybe James Bond (alias Daniel Craig) can finally make a long overdue appearance in Newport to film one of those iconic baccarat scenes opposite The Villain while impressing The Bond Girl. Jet-propelled paddle boarding in Narragansett Bay followed by a frenetic though unresolved battle with The Villain's Physically Distinctive Henchman on the Cliff Walk. Tuxedo scene at Rosecliff. Car chase down Ocean Drive. Narragansett Beer shaken, not stirred, with the exploding froth used to create a temporary distraction the second time The Villain's Physically Distinctive Henchman appears, interrupting 007's seduction of The Bond Girl at The White Horse Tavern. You get the idea.<br />
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Anyway, for once, Rhode Island isn't a contender for oddest ballot measure. Idaho will vote on whether to protect the rights of fishers, hunters and trappers against campaigns by animal rights groups. Proponents cite history, reminding residents that trappers founded Idaho. (It does make you think. Taking a cue from our own founding, maybe we need to strengthen our state constitution to protect exiled preachers and other free thinkers from people who think thinking is the devil's work.)<br />
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In California, voters in Los Angeles County will be asked to consider the issue of mandatory condoms for porn stars. Measure B (or "The Safer Sex in the Adult Film Industry Act") would require all adult movie actors to wear protection on camera. (Consider the bright side. It'll be easier to work a Trojan horse reference into the XXX version of "The Iliad.")<br />
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In Arizona, Republicans want voters to take the Grand Canyon back from the federal government, and give it to the state (presumably so business interests can start doing things like building canyon condos and mining for minerals, pronto). The ballot measure, known as Proposition 120, would give Arizona sovereignty over the "air, water, public lands, minerals, wildlife and other natural resources" of the Grand Canyon, essentially harnessing the kind of power that even the ancient Greeks decided should be divided between multiple gods.<br />
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In North Dakota, passing Measure 5 would mean stiffer punishments for those who inflict harm on cats, dogs or horses. (Of course, you're still free to torture hamsters.) Measure 78 would allow the state to make improvements in its constitution's spelling and grammar - which must be pretty bad, if it requires a ballot measure to fix. If it passes, the next step is to find a school marm with a red Sharpie.<br />
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<i>What measure would you like to see on the next Rhode Island ballot?<br />
</i>Doug Norrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04988375985994422784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8270779714106799201.post-34059305433620604402012-10-29T11:09:00.000-04:002012-10-29T11:09:10.946-04:00State of EmergencySandy’s coming. Wind gusts are strengthening, stripping trees of limbs and leaves. The rain has moved from mist to spit to drizzle, with downpours expected. A full moon tide may create strong storm surges, causing erosion and flooding throughout the state. Here in Rhode Island, today should be the worst of it. So we wait.<br />
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Many of us have been in the newsroom since early this morning. Schools have closed. All state workers described as non-essential have been asked to stay home. Many businesses also have chosen to remain shuttered today. But in the media game, extreme weather is a headline maker. Most of us will spend today trying to think of a sexier way to say “Frankenstorm.”<br />
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At 10 a.m., the power went out at The Newport Daily News. After rebooting the computer, I just spent the last couple of minutes reconstructing the first two paragraphs from memory. Advice for the apocalypse: Hang on to that old manual typewriter gathering dust in the attic. When the grid goes, you’ll be grateful.<br />
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Mandatory evacuations already have been declared in low-lying and coastal portions of Westerly, Charlestown, Narragansett, South Kingstown, Tiverton, Middletown and Bristol. Yesterday, during a break in the Patriots game, a reporter for The Weather Channel showed the scene at Narragansett Town Beach. The reporter marveled at the skills of the local kiteboarders riding massive waves along the shore. He also warned that much of the beach could be wiped out after this storm, depending on its track, timing and intensity. It is the story of Rhode Island in the age of climate change. We are becoming more Ocean than State.<br />
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In addition to the South Shore beaches, the surge probably will be worst along the upper part of the East and West Bays. The Fox Point Hurricane Barrier will be closed in Providence, protecting low-lying DownCity from massive flooding. But all that water has to go somewhere. My little cove community of West Barrington could be one of the places that endures the bounce back. <br />
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The barrier itself was constructed after two hurricanes – the 1938 Great New England Hurricane, known locally as the Hurricane of ’38, and Hurricane Carol in 1954 – slammed into Rhode Island and submerged Providence’s financial district in water. The hurricane barrier, a 3,000-foot-long tidal flood barrier spanning the Providence River, was constructed between 1960 and 1966 to keep downtown dry during major storms. In 1985 the barrier was credited with sparing Providence from being deluged with two feet of water from Hurricane Gloria. Six years later, when Hurricane Bob roared through, the barrier saved the city from being inundated with four feet of water.<br />
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Two odd bits of hurricane barrier trivia: City officials use it to keep the river level higher during low tides during Providence WaterFire events. During an April storm in 2007, the barrier’s pumps are thought to have been the primary cause for the sinking of the Soviet submarine K-77, a.k.a. “The Russian Sub Museum” in Providence. The sub’s evolution from an instrument of the Cold War to a unique tourist attraction to scrap metal is worth chronicling in a collection of “only in Rhode Island” stories someday. But for now I can’t help wondering how much Russian sub remains in the mountains of scrap that border the highway along Providence’s industrial waterfront? <br />
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Once this whole thing blows over, Half Shell would like to know: <i>What’s your Hurricane Sandy story?<br />
<br />
</i><br />
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Doug Norrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04988375985994422784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8270779714106799201.post-73110250324215990792012-10-22T11:34:00.000-04:002012-10-22T11:34:38.014-04:00Side By EachRhode Island always has been a state of odd juxtapositions. Most days when I drive to work through Warren I tap the brakes out of respect for the life-sized Cornelius – a “Planet of the Apes” character in a white NASA flight suit – that occasionally stands in front of the Warren Exchange at the funky corner where Water Street merges with Main Street. The space ape was on display yesterday, when the shop held one of its “parking lot sales” during the Warren Walkabout. Adding to its kitschy appeal, a plastic jack-o-lantern dangled from its neck.<br />
<br />
“It’s part of the team now,” said Kevin, one of the workers monitoring visitors in the parking lot. “People stop in just to take their picture with it.”<br />
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Last week, while driving back from Newport, I saw a flock of wild turkeys in the Warren streets, making their way to a yard decorated in political signs. On the same drive, going the opposite direction, I’ve seen wild turkeys sleeping on a lawn in front of a funeral home in Portsmouth. There’s also a tiny historical cemetery just off busy West Main Road, known as the Holy Cross Episcopal Cemetery but once a family graveyard on old Rogers Farm, which I only noticed because I was stopped at a light. Directly across the street from it is a Benny’s.<br />
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These are the kinds of things that amuse me during the daily commute. The fleeting moments of Rhody culture that offer brief mental relief from the tedium of traffic, endless lights and the blight of sprawl that has crept into what was once an entirely scenic stretch of villages, farms and ocean vistas. Every now and then, the juxtapositions are transcendent – such as the October sunset I saw while crossing the Mount Hope Bridge last week, wild streaks of burning clouds, sky and leaves set against the blue bay. Or yesterday in Warren, wandering into the Medium Gothic Baptist Church to discover the Atwater-Donnelly Band performing Celtic folk, Irish airs and clog dancing on the black walnut pulpit with sunlight streaming through a kaleidoscope of huge arched stained glass windows. <br />
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<i>What is your favorite “side by each” Rhody moment?<br />
</i><br />
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Doug Norrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04988375985994422784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8270779714106799201.post-88095866488351860652012-10-15T12:24:00.000-04:002012-10-15T12:24:45.013-04:00Rhody Gone WildThe wilds of Rhode Island are getting wilder. The latest creature to cause a stir in the Ocean State is the fisher cat, which doesn’t fish and isn’t a cat but is a particularly vicious member of the weasel family. Sightings have exploded. A fisher bit one woman in Lincoln when she tried to kick it with bare feet. Friends in Kingston have heard their screeching at night and seen them trotting on the tops of stone walls, using them as rural highways to watering holes and easy kills. <br />
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Squirrel-heavy neighborhoods that suddenly don’t have any squirrels are a sign that fishers might be lurking around. Same with communities that put up signs for missing cats. They were hunted out of Rhode Island in the early 1700s, but are back with a vengeance. <br />
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Coyotes, also suspected in local cat thefts, have adapted quite easily to Rhode Island, even though they never lived in Rhody (or anywhere in the East for that matter) until last century. The absence of wolves in this part of the world gives them room to roam. I’ve heard them baying at night in Matunuck, watched them slink through the woods at Trustom Pond in South Kingstown and even spotted them darting across the bike path in Barrington and East Providence. <br />
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South County and other parts of the state are glutted with deer. I never saw one in Barrington until recently. Now I see them every week. A large female bounded between the post office and the middle school around 11 a.m. one day. The next night, when I was jogging at dusk on the bike path, two young deer trotted toward me, pounding the asphalt, only veering off at the last minute. <br />
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In recent years, young male black bears have returned to the state in the spring. Moose are prevalent once again in Massachusetts (numbering about 1,000) and friends from Connecticut have reported sightings on the main roads of the Nutmeg State. While no moose have been spied in Rhode Island yet, the great antlered beasts are getting closer to our borderlands. The state has more forested land than it did a century ago, when it was more agrarian. There may not be much elbow room, and even less wiggle room, but there are pockets of habitat that can sustain big creatures – at least as tourists, if not residents. So Bullwinkle’s coming, folks. Bet on it.<br />
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Finally, state environmental officials downplay sightings of mountain lions in Rhode Island, citing a lack of any credible evidence. But the true big cat believers are out there. According to the excellent <a href="http://www.ecori.org">eco RI blog</a>, the last mountain lion in the Ocean State was shot in 1847 in West Greenwich and is preserved at Harvard University. But the mountain lion conspiracy theorists don’t buy it. Many of them insist that a mountain lion was spotted in Matunuck last year. Lending credence to some of their claims, one was killed on a Connecticut road, not far from Rhode Island. So for now the cat people have an edge over the folks who report Bigfoot, alien and Tom Brady sightings in Rhode Island.<br />
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<i>What is the wildest thing you have ever seen in Rhode Island?<br />
</i>Doug Norrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04988375985994422784noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8270779714106799201.post-46759351271384495922012-10-08T12:45:00.001-04:002012-10-08T12:45:53.238-04:00Small State, Big GourdsUnlike, say, Texans, New Englanders aren’t big on bragging. In fact, here in Rhody, we aren’t really big on anything. Cultivating a belief in the appreciation of beauty on a small scale is part of the local habitude. But when the season of Falloween rolls around, with its cornucopia of apple-picking, foliage-viewing, haunt and harvest rituals, Rhode Island brings out the big gourds.<br />
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Giant pumpkin grower Ron Wallace of Greene grew the world’s first one-ton pumpkin, a gourd dubbed “The Freak II,” which tipped the scales at 2009 pounds at the Topsfield Fair in Massachusetts. The new world-record holder for giant pumpkins, “The Freak II” wrested the “pumpking” crown back for Rhode Island, topping a record held for two years by a Wisconsin man (1,810.5 pounds), which itself was broken by a New Hampshire grower (1,843 pounds) in September at a state fair in Deerfield. <br />
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Wallace seems to enjoy smashing pumpkin records. Last week at the Frerichs Farm pumpkin weigh-off in Warren, his entry, “The Pleasure Dome,” came in at 1,872 pounds. Although not a new world record, it was the heaviest pumpkin ever weighed in Rhode Island, and the second-heaviest weighed worldwide.<br />
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A member of the <a href="http://www.sngpg.com">Southern New England Giant Pumpkin Growers Association</a>, Wallace uses Epsom salts, Borax and a variety of fertilizers to grow his monsters. Weather conditions during the growing season contributed to this year’s fertile crop. Temperatures in the low 80s during the day with nighttime temperatures hovering around 70 are ideal for producing gourds the size of a Buick.<br />
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<i>What else is biggest about the Biggest Little State in the Union?<br />
</i>Doug Norrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04988375985994422784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8270779714106799201.post-66835904044812387562012-10-01T12:43:00.001-04:002012-10-01T12:59:38.140-04:00Rooster BoostersAntonia Farzan, a colleague here at the bricks-and-mortar home of Half Shell in Newport, showed me a piece of Rhode Islandiana last week. She inherited a small enamel label pin of a Rhode Island Red rooster superimposed over an anchor from her grandfather. The souvenir dates back to sometime in the middle of the 20th century, when a group of Providence businessmen got together to think of ways to promote the state. Part of the campaign involved wearing the pins with the pride. There was also a jingle:<br />
<br />
<blockquote>Be a Rooster Booster/Now’s the time to crow!/Be a Rooster Booster/And help Rhode Island grow!<br />
</blockquote>The pins are collector’s items today, but they also point to a time when the rooster had more cache than it does now in the state. As recently as the 1980s, people were more aware of Rooster Boosters in our midst. The second item on a Google search of the phrase includes a reprint of a St. Petersburg Times column from 1983 announcing a dinner of the R.I. Rooster Booster Club at a Florida Holiday Inn.<br />
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For about a century, the Rhode Island Red was the state's second-most visible symbol, after the anchor. The breed was established in the mid-1800s in Adamsville when farmer William Tripp crossed his Cochin hens with a Red Malay or Chittagong rooster he bought from a sailor in New Bedford. A neighbor bred his hens with the “Tripp fowl” and turned his flock into what he called the “Biggest Poultry Farm on Earth.” The bird’s fame spread quickly near and far, and its immediate success in the international poultry market made it a source of pride for Rhode Islanders. <br />
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This was around the time when Rhode Island led America into the Industrial Revolution. The state, which became world-famous for engineering and manufacturing achievements, started to romanticize about its pastoral, agrarian past. Once a place of farmers and fishermen, Rhode Island turned rapidly into a state of mills, factories, mechanical triumphs and immigrant workers. Somehow in the psyche of the average Rhode Islander, a rooster had more personality than a steam engine. So it became the state icon. (Although to be fair we should note that Providence once had a professional football team named Steam Roller and a professional basketball team called Steamrollers. It also had the minor-league hockey Reds, with their rooster logo, which lasted for 51 years.)<br />
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Rhody’s agrarian symbols weren’t limited to poultry. The University of Rhode Island mascot, the Rhody Ram, is a direct link to the state’s longtime heritage as an innovator in the design and manufacture of textiles. But sometime in the early 1970s, the state began to wean itself from its agricultural roots and went all in on the ocean. Part of it may have been a growing consciousness surrounding the pollution of Narragansett Bay and the notable efforts of the Save The Bay, one of the most significant environmental charity success stories in the country. The state also changed its license plate signature from “Discover” Rhode Island to adopt “The Ocean State” nickname. An American Soccer League championship team dubbed the Rhode Island Oceaneers played in East Providence. And suddenly, it seemed, everyone started talking about quahogs. <br />
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Rhody billed itself as Quahog Country, harvesting a quarter of the nation’s annual catch. Quahog festivals popped up here and there in places like North Kingstown and Warren, and quahogs began getting more of a mention in Rhode Island menus. The quahog became the official state shellfish, and even though the Rhody Red remained the state’s official bird, the fact that the Rhode Island Reds hockey team eventually disbanded didn’t help the rooster in its rivalry with the hard clam. If you add the prevalence of steamers, oysters, mussels and scallops to the local mania for all things oceanic, Rooster Boosters never stood much of a chance. Today, bivalve mollusks rule, and the state taste tends to the salty and briny. In fact, many Rhode Islanders nowadays, when they hear the word chicken, think of the name for one-pound lobsters.<br />
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None of that should discredit the triumphant role of the Rhode Island Red in helping to form the state identity. Still, it might be time to put on a clam pin and change the booster jingle to something like: <br />
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<blockquote>I’m a happy clam/At the beach or in the fog/Rhode Island’s where I am/Home of the wild quahog.</blockquote><br />
(Life lesson No. 8,472: Never try to jingle before your second cup of coffee.)<br />
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<i>What is your favorite Rhode Island souvenir?</i> <br />
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Doug Norrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04988375985994422784noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8270779714106799201.post-56346329270820385692012-09-24T13:00:00.000-04:002012-09-24T16:50:36.713-04:00The 'Yo, Dude' of its DayIf you look up the phrase “What Cheer” on Google, the first and third items that pop up are links to information about the <a href="http://www.whatcheerbrigade.com/">What Cheer? Brigade</a>, the multi-piece, multi-style street music brass band from Providence. Second is a reference to a website strategy, design and application development company based in Omaha, Neb. Fourth is a Wikipedia entry on What Cheer, Iowa, a city in Keokuk County strangely named after the Providence motto. (The city’s signature event is the <a href="http://www.whatcheerfleamarket.com">What Cheer Flea Market</a>, billed as the largest flea market in the Midwest.) Other “What Cheer” references that make the first Google page include <a href="http://whatcheerdriving.com">What Cheer Driving</a>, a chauffer company based in Cranston, and What Cheer Antiques, a Providence store.<br />
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That’s a lot of What Cheering for a relatively archaic English greeting, but it looks as if the catchphrase might come back into vogue. On Saturday, Oct. 13, the R.I. Historical Society will host the first “What Cheer Day” promoting aspects of Ocean State history at all four of its sites.<br />
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<blockquote>Ever since the Narragansetts are said to have hailed Roger Williams with “What cheer, netop?” (a 17th-century version of “What’s going on, friend?”), the phrase “What Cheer” has been quintessentially Rhode Island: you can find it on street signs and storefronts, and it’s even the motto of the city of Providence. <br />
</blockquote>Some of the ways local historians will be What Cheering: By attending roundtables on the RIHS 2012 theme “Rhode Island at War” at the Aldrich House; by learning about Rhode Island’s Civil War hospital at Portsmouth Grove at the RIHS Library; by knitting a pair of Civil War-era mittens in a “knit-a-long” while simultaneously shifting eras and wars in interaction with Revolutionary War re-enactors drilling and cooking in uniform on the lawn of the John Brown House Museum; or by attending a gala at the Museum of Work & Culture to celebrate the region’s industrial legacy during an evening titled “Made in Woonsocket.”<br />
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But back to Iowa. Here’s the Wikipedia entry on how the city got its name:<br />
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<blockquote>When the future What Cheer was founded in 1865, it was named Petersburg for Peter Britton, the settlement’s founder. This name was rejected by the Post Office, forcing a change of name. Joseph Andrews, a major and veteran of the American Civil War suggested the name What Cheer, and the town was officially renamed on December 1, 1879.<br />
Sources differ as to why the name What Cheer was chosen. The phrase <i>what cheer with you</i> is an ancient English greeting dating back at least to the 15th century. One theory of the name is that a Scottish miner exclaimed <i>What cheer!</i> on discovering a coal seam near town. A more elaborate theory suggests that Joseph Andrews chose the name because of one of the founding myths of his native town of Providence, Rhode Island. According to the story, when Roger Williams arrived at the site that would become Providence in 1636, he was greeted by Narragansett Native Americans with “What Cheer, <i>Netop</i>.” <i>Netop</i> was the Narragansett word for <i>friend</i>, and the Narragansetts had picked up the <i>what cheer</i> greeting from English settlers. It is possible that the connection between What Cheer, Iowa and What Cheer, the shibboleth of Rhode Island, was merely coincidental – the entries for these subjects are adjacent but not connected in the 1908 edition of the Encyclopedia Americana.<br />
</blockquote>Begging the question, then why aren’t there any Iowa towns named Word or Wassup?<br />
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<i>How will you celebrate the first “What Cheer” Day in Rhode Island?<br />
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Doug Norrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04988375985994422784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8270779714106799201.post-63732916152735292902012-09-17T11:52:00.001-04:002012-09-17T11:52:27.033-04:00Crossed SignalsA friend of mine who works in Warren tells this story: He was driving through town when he saw a policeman on the side of the road. The cop waved. Dave waved back. Within a couple of minutes he saw a cruiser flashing its lights behind him. The policeman he had just passed got out and read him the riot act. “This means stop,” he said, raising his palm in the air. “No, it doesn’t,” Dave said, raising his own hand. “This (pushing his hand forcefully forward in front of him) means stop. This (lifting his hand in the air next to his shoulder) means hello.”<br />
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Gesture, like words, can be a tricky way to communicate. Even within the same culture, motioning can be misunderstood. It’s even worse when you leave the country. In Britain and elsewhere, what we think of as a peace sign means victory when the palm faces outward and is equivalent to giving the middle finger when the palm faces inward. Giving the OK sign in Greece, Turkey and several other countries is not OK; it is taken as a rude insult. Thumb’s up in Iran is equivalent to the ubiquitous middle finger here. (Reason No. 1,843 why it’s probably not a great idea to hitchhike in Iran.) Beckoning someone to “come here” with a single finger is frowned upon in the Philippines, where the gesture can be used only to call dogs. Any offender caught summoning a human that way could be arrested and possibly have the finger broken as punishment. Even the “hook ’em horns” sign showing the forefinger and little finger raised with the other fingers down - the signature gesture of the University of Texas Longhorns occasionally used by the general public as a silent “party on” statement - has alternate meanings. It’s been used for years as a form of greeting among Satanists and in many Mediterranean countries the “hook ’em” is an insult essentially calling men a “cuckold,” meaning “your wife is cheating on you.” (Now more commonly flashed at referees during soccer matches.)<br />
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Just a brief aside: As I was practicing the Longhorn greeting while researching this blog, I realized it could be adapted to provide a signature gesture for the University of Rhode Island Rams. Curl all of the fingers into a clench (with an open palm, not a fist), then raise the forefinger and little finger at the knuckles to make curled rams horns. “Rack ’em Rams!” Watch for it. Soon it will be sweeping the country.<br />
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Leading to this week’s question: <i>What is the definitive Rhode Island gesture?<br />
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Please think beyond the middle finger. Some possibilities:<br />
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The shrug. <br />
The hand slap to forehead followed by a shake of the head.<br />
One hand on the steering wheel, the other raising a cup of Dunkin’ Donuts coffee to blot out the sun and make the blind side even more dangerous.<br />
The “I’m watching you” point to your eyes, to their eyes and back to your eyes again.<br />
Air kisses. Air quotes. Air guitar. Air “check please.” Air “scratch” indicating an immediate need to purchase a lottery ticket.<br />
The “my bad” hand pat over the heart after you’ve done something stupid on the road while not making eye contact with the angry driver passing you.<br />
The raising a pint in greeting to someone across the bar whose name you either can’t remember or who you just don’t want to talk to.<br />
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Doug Norrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04988375985994422784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8270779714106799201.post-68444994889023604092012-09-10T17:27:00.000-04:002012-09-10T17:27:00.287-04:00The Half Shell LegacySince I went missing in mid-June, I tried to get Jeremy Renner to guest blog Half Shell during its forthcoming limited engagement. He said something about “over Matt Damon’s not-dead-but-no-more-sequels body” and so I’m back, for as long as my temporary gig at the helm of the arts pages at Independent Newspapers lasts. The details of my return are more arcane than a Ludlum plot, but all that should matter to Rhodyholics is that Ocean State minutia will once again return to its rightful place at the top of the obscurity heap in the endless abyss of the cybersphere. <br />
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As sequels go, “Return of Blog on the Half Shell” will aim to be more “Godfather II” than “Jaws II.” (Or “Just when I thought I was out…they pull me back in” vs. “You’re going to need a bigger blogging platform.”) If I keep doing this – coming and going from the same job – readers can expect to encounter “Blog on the Half Shell Strikes Again,” “Revenge of Blog on the Half Shell” and “Blog on the Half Shell Meets Abbott and Costello” in the future. Mondays worked before, so we’ll stick to that schedule in our eternal quest to get Bob Geldof and The Boomtown Rats to amend the lyrics to their most famous song and spread a little grief to Tuesdays.<br />
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<b>Rhody Universe: Three Brighton Memories<br />
</b><b>Andre the Giant Gets Plastered<br />
</b>Within days of my summertime move to the English Channel, I wandered down to a public bench on Marine Road in Brighton. A familiar face stared back from a sticker. It was Shepard Fairey’s born-in-Providence <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Andre_the_Giant_Has_a_Posse">“Andre the Giant Has a Posse”</a> mug. First appearing on Providence streets in the late 1980s, Andre’s “Posse” and “Obey” stickers remain a global phenomenon wherever alternative cultures congregate. Based on my own travel adventures, Andre may not have overtaken the peace sign yet, but he’s opened up a decent lead on <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Smiley">yellow smiley face</a>.<br />
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<b>‘Moonrise’ Delight<br />
</b>It was somewhat surreal to watch the mostly-made-in-Rhody “Moonrise Kingdom” among an audience full of appreciative Brits at the Duke of York’s Picturehouse in Preston Circus, Brighton. Wes Anderson’s fantasy valentine to the magic of first love was a critical and popular success in the UK. Its arched style, archetypal narrative and stilted, comic dialogue didn’t thrill everyone, but the consensus among English moviegoers is that the film ranks with Anderson’s most charming and hopeful. A Rhode Island scene from “Moonrise” even made the front page of The Guardian last week to illustrate an article on the summer’s best movies. For a native New Englander, seeing locations in Rhode Island (and Massachusetts and New Hampshire) rendered with the Anderson touch made me wish I’d grown up as a Khaki Scout in South County.<br />
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<b>Torch Song<br />
</b>After watching the Olympic torch being jogged through Brighton, my sister and I and the family dog, Harry, enjoyed a picnic brunch on the Pavilion grounds. A drunken man staggered over, reached down to pet Harry, missed, and sprawled to the ground next to our blanket.<br />
“Where’r you from,” he mumbled.<br />
“The States,” I said.<br />
“Which one,” he asked.<br />
“Rhode Island,” I said.<br />
The man stared at me, as if trying to will an act of concentration into his furrowed brow. Eventually, he gave up.<br />
“That means absolutely nothing to me,” he said. Then he threw up.<br />
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This week’s question: <i>What was your strangest Rhode Island encounter outside of the Ocean State?<br />
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Doug Norrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04988375985994422784noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8270779714106799201.post-70829664316480649532012-06-11T11:39:00.000-04:002012-06-11T11:39:11.797-04:00Half Shell, Will TravelSome of you know this already, but for those who don’t get the paper, I’m leaving the office life to embark on a new adventure, beginning with a two-month excursion to England and surrounds. On Sunday I fly to London. As part of the condition of non-employment, I will be giving up this blog. <br />
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So the question is how to end it. Perhaps in a computer crash, where the characters of Half Shell dodge smoke monsters and polar bears before appearing in a flash sideways in some parallel purgatory Rhodyverse. Or maybe it ends in a blogging duel with a one-armed typist. Or I wake up in bed with Suzanne Pleshette and realize it was all a strange dream.<br />
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But then last week Olivia Culpo, a 20-year-old cellist from Cranston, became the <a href="http://www.bu.edu/today/2012/olivia-culpo%E2%80%99s-crowning-achievement/">first Miss Rhode Island </a>to win the Miss USA pageant and will represent the United States of America in competing for the title of Miss Universe. As we know from our “Seinfeld” history, Rhode Island never wins these things, but the poised Miss Culpo, who deftly handled the toughest question of the night – “Would you feel it would be fair that a transgender woman wins the Miss USA title over a natural-born woman?” – gave hope to every Ocean State gal who looks great in a bikini and an evening gown.<br />
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It seemed like the right note on which to sign off.<br />
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As of today, Half Shell is officially on permanent hiatus. I’m a never-say-never guy, so in my admittedly warped world there is always a chance it could return in some guise. I won’t stop collecting size of Rhode Island references or obsessing over the oddities and quirks of Ocean State culture. So we’ll see what happens down the road. <br />
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But for now I’d just like to thank you all for reading. During the typical Monday slog, Half Shell has been the most enjoyable part of the day and I’ve been amazed at how many of you I’ve encountered randomly at places such as Kenyon’s Grist Mill or the Red Fez, who don’t actually get our paper but check in on the blog. Your comments (both on screen and off) are much appreciated.<br />
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As I’ve told some of you before, Rhode Island is my anchor, but every now and then I need to haul up and sail. For those who are interested, I will be starting a travel blog in England. Give me a week or so then Google my name (and "travel blog") and it should direct you to the new site. Naturally it will be a different kind of animal, but I will still be on the lookout for Rhode Islandisms wherever I can find them. Because you can take the boy out of Rhode Island, but you can’t take the Rhode Island out of the boy.<br />
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Fade to black.<br />Doug Norrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04988375985994422784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8270779714106799201.post-91273965403513946942012-06-04T11:10:00.000-04:002012-06-04T11:10:20.220-04:00English SignglishHere at Half Shell we’re always on the lookout for other blogging Rhode Islanders, bringing their own voices to the Rhodyverse. Sometimes we stumble onto them while trolling for blog fodder. Other times they find us. A couple of weeks ago Rhody author Marna Krajeski e-mailed a head’s up about her blog, <a href="http://www.TheHangingIndent.com">The Hanging Indent</a> – a highly entertaining compendium of literary “misuses, malapropisms and interesting expressions,” often found on store and street signs locally and nationally.<br />
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The site is an amusing treasure trove for lovers of words and the English language. Photographs taken by Krajeski or sent to her from family and friends around the country document odd juxtapositions, poorly considered word choices and glaring typos on public signs. We learn, for example, that Hope Court in Wakefield is a dead end. A sign at McDonald’s reads: “WE ARE CURRENTLY OUT OF BOY TOYS. SORRY FOR THE INCONVENIENCE.” A chimney sweep in North Kingstown advertises business on a truck, exhibiting a literary flair: “Lord of the Flues.”<br />
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Some of Half Shell’s global wanderings have resulted in similar findings. London, with its familiar signposted admonitions to “MIND THE GAP” and warnings about upcoming speed bumps (“HUMPS 50 METRES”), is particularly rich in “Signglish.” Once, as we were traveling on the Tube, among throngs jammed together like ripe sardines in a tin can, one poor passenger was pressed against a door with the words “NO PASSING THROUGH” overhead, only the P was scratched out. Another sign, at a walled London school, read: “THESE WALLS PAINTED WITH ANTI-CLIMB PAINT.” Yet another, at a traffic light in Stoke Newington, warned pedestrians not to cross a busy road before the light had turned with a huge sign over the street that read: “WAIT FOR THE GREEN MAN,” a reference to the glowing stick figure that appears at the intersection for 30 seconds or so, signaling it’s safe to cross. <br />
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<i>What is the most oddly worded sign in Rhode Island?<br />
</i><br />Doug Norrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04988375985994422784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8270779714106799201.post-35710649748575361802012-05-29T09:36:00.002-04:002012-05-31T13:26:01.641-04:00Treasure HuntingThe prospect of discovering <a href="http://www.lostgold.us/html/rhode_island.htm">buried treasure </a>has long appealed to the Rhode Island imagination. Reports of pirate booty stashed on some of Rhody’s islands have entertained the locals for centuries, causing sporadic searches for stunted oaks and storm-wrecked shores somewhere near the mysterious spot marked X. British pirate Joseph Bradish is believed to have buried chests of silver and gold on Block Island that, as far as anyone knows, have never be claimed. Captain Kidd is thought to have scattered bits of treasure on Patience Island and possibly Hog Island and Jamestown (at Beavertail) as well. <br />
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Today’s Rhode Island treasure hunters range from historians armed with metal detectors looking for old musket balls and coins in family farms to beachcombers picking up sea glass, driftwood, shells and stones along the coast to leisurely adventurers hunting for hidden geocaches and letterboxes. <br />
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Wakefield glass artist <a href="http://www.ebenhortonglass.com/The_Glass_Station.html">Eben Horton</a>, borrowing from a West Coast friend’s idea, will add to the local treasure lore this Saturday on Block Island. The Block Island Glass Float Project is based on a similar activity in Lincoln City, Ore., which began after an artist started thinking about the blown glass floats that often wound up on the beaches there. The orbs, colored in various shades of blue and green, were used by Japanese fishing crews to float their nets and could be as small as 2 inches or as large as 2 feet. Now that most fishing vessels use buoyant plastic, the blown glass floats are rare, until an Oregon artist decided to make an annual event of placing 2,000 handmade colored glass spheres on a wide swath of public beach. <br />
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For the Rhode Island version, 200 glass floats, each about the size of a grapefruit, will be hidden on the Block, all of them dated, numbered and stamped with the shape of the island. The orbs will be divided evenly between the beaches and the greenway trails. They will be hidden above the high tide mark but never in the dunes or up the bluffs, and no floats will be placed between Surf Beach and Scotch Beach, or along the inside of Great Salt Pond. The floats will be located within one foot of either side of two Greenway trails – in the Enchanted Forest and along Clay Head Trail. They are finders keepers, although organizers request that finders keep only one, and leave the rest for others. All of the floats except 12 (in honor of 2012) will be made of clear glass. One is made entirely out of gold leaf. If you find one, you are asked to register it by logging on to www.blockislandinfo.com and clicking on the Glass Float Project link. The running count will allow visitors to continue to explore the sites, if all of the floats aren’t found on Saturday.<br />
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<i>What is your favorite “found treasure” in Rhode Island?<br />
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[Blogger's note: Apologies for the late post. Forgot last week to mention that I would be off on Memorial Day, cycling Ocean Drive in Newport, where the kites, fishing poles, sails and bug-shaped zip cars were out in full force.]<br />
<br />Doug Norrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04988375985994422784noreply@blogger.com0