Easier said, than done

Plymouth isn’t in bad shape; it’s just out of shape. Here are a few New Year’s Resolutions for the town.

1. Stop whining and embrace the history of this community. That doesn’t mean that everybody wears funny hats and speaks with a lot of ‘thees and thines’, but rather that we take advantage of our history in everything we do, or don’t do.
Don’t, for example, continue down the road of ‘Retail Right or Wrong’. Yes, we need tax income, but the kind of development going on now is going to make us indistinguishable from any other community –if it hasn’t already.
If that kind of economic development is going to continue, then we should sell the entire downtown historical area to a community that appreciates history, and be done with it.
If we want to hold on to our history, we can’t just sit on it, we do have to develop it: cobblestone Court Street and limit traffic there; build a free, underground parking facility; develop an institute that supports greater citizen involvement in governmental institutions (where our own town meeting could serve as both an example for emulation and a draw for tourists), for example.

2. Abandon the idea of large, efficient school buildings, and embrace the reality that the better a town’s school system, the better the town.
The notion of a single high school campus is a recipe for disaster. It may be more expensive to develop an integrated neighborhood school system, but such a system will provide a better education, help foster a real sense of community, and allow for the kind of programs that excite the imaginations of everyone who lives here.

3. Prescribe some Preparation H for the so-called ‘flare-up’: you know, the Mayoral Flare-up that was recently reported in the press.
Allegedly there is a groundswell of support for completely revamping our 375 year old governmental system. The truth is that there is only a small cadre of radicals who would rather turn the town on its head than accept defeat.
And putting aside the argument as to which government system would be more efficient, abandoning town meeting in Plymouth would be like turning the Eiffel Tower into condominiums, or the Alamo into a Holiday Inn, or slapping a paddle-wheel onto the back of the Mayflower.

4. Fore! I was one of the first to laugh at the notion of Plymouth as a ‘golf destination’, and I still find the proliferation of courses in town, amusing. But I also think that golf courses are far better than retail development, in the long term, and point the way to other kinds of development that allow us to preserve our history, improve our bottom line, and maintain a certain quality of life.
My pet peeve is bicycles. Plymouth seems tailor-made for bicycle tourists. We have the extensive trails of Myles Standish and a plethora of historic and scenic sites throughout town that visitors would love to ‘cycle through’. Many do, but many more would if we catered to that segment of the tourism industry. I would like to see Plymouth actively pursue the development of bike paths throughout town.
With our size, our history, and our scenery, Plymouth could become the bicycling capital of New England.

5. Education, again. Abandon the illusion that we can have a cheap, effective school system, and embrace the reality that when it comes to education ‘more’ is always good.
I don’t know about you, but I am embarrassed that my town’s school teachers have to spend so much of their time begging for things. I am willing to accept the notion that parents should pay for extra-curricular sports and activities –as long as those without the means are not left out. But I don’t believe that art and music are extras.
If we abandon the idea of massive middle schools and town-wide high school campuses, we can look to utilizing the town’s multitude of school buildings for, among other things, buildings dedicated to students with interests in the arts, music, and technology.
I would rather spend the time figuring out how to coordinate two dozen buildings and activities, than how to separate two thousand students in one campus.

6. Take down the parking meters, again. Parking meters in Plymouth are like those invisible fences that are used to keep pets in the yard. Is that what we really want: to give tourist and locals a little shock, every time they are foolish enough to visit the downtown area?
How about a little positive reinforcement instead?
Or leave the meters and make contributions voluntary – then donate the receipts to a worthy charity.

7. Why should anyone be denied access to the greatest information revolution in the history of the world –just because they can’t afford it.
Plymouth should have a town-wide free Internet system, and the entire downtown area should be a wireless zone.
This would attract new business, help existing business, support education, and help distinguish Plymouth from other communities without having to abandon or diminish our history.

8. New Year’s Resolution, from the word ‘resolute’, which is defined as firm, determined, definite, steadfast, tenacious, or purposeful.
Any or all of the above would do.

Magical Woods

Where did the magic go?
When we were younger it seemed so easy, so effortless.
Christmas came into our minds like a magician practicing his sleight of hand: a single silver sleigh bell appeared between his fingers, multiplied, and then disappeared.
Where did it come from?
Where did it go?
Magic!

Maybe the first mistake we made was thinking that because we once thought we saw the magic, we could make the magic ourselves.
We certainly try.
Those same sleigh bells suddenly appear on our lawns, multiply, enlarge, and soon the night is ringing with sleigh bells, and is lit by a thousand tiny glowing bulbs, and populated with enormous electric reindeer and inflatable snowmen.
Few of us have the magician’s nimble fingers, so we compensate with quantity.
We console ourselves with the little white lie that says we are doing it for the children.
And certainly for the very young and innocent it is nearly wondrous to see the tree go up, the presents appear, the family arrive.
But we know better. And we know that we are doing these things for ourselves, as much as for the children.
We still long for the magic.
We still hope to be dragged away from our plans and procedures and made a witness again, an audience member, a waif with his nose pressed against the glass.

But the magician, good or bad, must take his pleasure in the audience’s reaction. Those drawn to the practice of magic, who endeavor to master the skills and learn the secrets, do so only because they really the want it for themselves, want to rediscover that feeling of awe and mystery.
The great Houdini spent years mastering tricks, dedicated himself to uncovering the spiritualist frauds that were common in his lifetime and yet, at the end of life, was desperate to find a way to communicate with departed loved ones.
Despite all he knew about the tricks of the so-called ‘spiritualist’, what Houdini desired most was to be tricked himself.
And so our most precious stories of the season are not about the innocence of children, but rather, about the forestalling of inevitable disbelief: stories of children who had vowed they knew better, had figured it all out, but were tricked nonetheless one last time
Stories of how Papa played Santa for year after year until the children began to catch on and, that year, it was arranged for someone else to comes to the door with a sack full of presents. The children looked at Santa, and then back at Papa, back and forth and back and forth, their eyes getting wider and wider.
We try, for everyone’s sake, to make the magic, and to feel it too.

The streets of our town are now bright with a thousand homes lit by the desire to recapture the old magic.
But let me just mention one, a display in what my son calls the ‘Magical Woods’, on Halfway Pond Road, a few hundred yards west of its intersection with Long Pond Road.
There you’ll see an unassuming Christmas display, simply a single illuminated tree and star: very easily missed if you’re in a hurry.
If you do slow down though, and take a good look, you’ll notice that the 8 foot tree is covered in meticulously placed red bulbs that, glowing brightly in its otherwise dark, isolated patch of wood, point upwards toward a simple white star floating ten feet above.
This display has an admirable –and all too rare simplicity.
There is also a sense of peacefulness, heightened by the absence of any other decorations nearby and the lack of any home or structure lurking in the background.
So though it doesn’t compare in size of wattage to many of the more ostentatious displays about town, if you see this little tree and star, you’ll remember it, and turning to look that way as you drive by again the next night you’ll find it perplexing, for no apparent reason.
The shape is the same the next night, the star above fixed and bright, the lights a constant blue.
But wasn’t it red, the night before?
On successive nights a sense of anticipation will build, as you head down the road and, quite unexpectedly, the lights are green this time.
Needless to say, each time you pass the ‘Magical Woods’, it is a surprise. Even if you guess right, you cannot be quite sure what colors you will see.
Will the colors be mixed?
Are there other colors, yet to be revealed?
Are there other stars in its firmament?
Do the colors change every hour, or every night, or every week.
What’s the rush: let’s wait and see.

Maybe the magic has never left, but has always been there, waiting for us to let go.
You begin by knowing how little you know, yet feeling a sense of wonder every day.
Gradually though, you come to think you’re pretty smart, that you can’t be fooled.
Then the colored lights flicker and you’re a child again.