The kids are all right
So, I was riding my motorcycle down quiet little Stevens Street in Lewiston the other day when a little girl on a bicycle rolled up, looked me straight in the eyes and stuck her tongue out at me. Not a block later, a young boy dashed barefoot across his lawn, pacing me and waving with glee until I honked my horn. Magical little neighborhood, that. I half expected to see a young Huck Finn in a straw hat, hauling his homemade fishing pole down to the crick. By the time I had reached the end of Stevens Street, my mood had improved tenfold.

Sit right back and you’ll hear a tale
It’s happening! It’s finally happening! After years of glumly believing that the people of Gilligan’s Island had lied to me about the existence of quicksand, they’re saying there’s a whole bunch of the stuff right down the road at Popham Beach! This is great fun! Of course, if Gilligan was telling the truth after all, that means we should also prepare ourselves for giant cave spiders, a robot invasion, headhunters, unexploded missiles, temperamental volcanoes, rampaging gorillas that will steal Lovey’s diamond brooch, vampire bats, a crashed meteorite that causes rapid aging, and wild seeds that allow us to read minds. I’m telling you, Popham Beach just got 100 times funner.

Sabattus annual town meeting
Yes, yes, it’s all very nice that the townsfolk decided to keep their police department and all, but can we talk about the real story here, which is the fact that I somehow survived the meeting with my sanity intact? Mostly intact, anyway. When I’m forced, often at gunpoint, to cover a municipal meeting like this, I go through all the classic stages typically associated with grief. By the time I got to the bargaining phase Monday night, I was willing to do damn near anything if the people would just stop throwing numbers around and call the vote already! I guarantee you that if I could have found some quicksand, I’d have dove (dived?) headfirst into it.

Do the crime, do the time
I have a whole bunch of friends right now who are doing time in Facebook jail. I want to bring them smokes and maybe put a few bucks in their inmate commissaries but man, I’m walking the tightrope with Facebook police, myself, and can’t risk getting locked up. I’m sure you understand, inmates. Best of luck at your parole hearings.

Wherefore art thou, LPD?
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve flown off into a panic because I rode by the old Lewiston police station on Park Street and noticed that all the cruisers were gone. Why, the crime of the century must be underway somewhere if every single squad car is out! Of course, you’re talking to a guy who still pulls into Victor News for smokes at least three times a week.