CP_MBHC_20230301_1_A06
marbleheadcurrent.org
A6 Wednesday, March 1, 2023 Marblehead Current
Opinion EDITORIAL
Sour taste lingers
At quick glance, one could see that no one seems 100% satisfied with the compromise that had been expected to allow the tennis courts at the Veterans School reopened for pickleball last week as a sign that the Recreation & Parks Commission did its job. However, look closer, and you can see the opposite is true. To review, the group Marblehead Pickleball raised about $65,000 to help convert four tennis courts at Vets into six dedicated pickleball courts. Then, this fall, it partnered with Rec & Parks to create four additional pickleball courts at Seaside Park. But even though Marblehead had been enjoying an unseasonably warm winter, the pickleball nets came down in January. The town’s pickleball players — some 400 strong — were mystified and struggled to get a clear explanation. Apparently, at least part of the rationale was that the contractor who had worked on the Seaside courts reported that pressure from the pickleball nets was causing the posts to which they were attached to lean. Might the same group that raised such a substantial sum to convert the courts in the first place have agreed to pay for the repairs? They were never offered that deal, it seems. Though it was not raised at the Feb. 7 Rec & Parks meeting, at least one pickleball player says she had been told that the nets came down because the town was concerned about liability. Even if the department needs a refresher course on the state’s recreational use statute, G.L.c. 21, §17C, which shields property owners who freely open their land for recreation in the absence of wilful, wanton, or reckless conduct, any such concern has never prompted the department to cordon off the town’s basketball courts or fields. Nearly a quarter century ago, in his groundbreaking book “Bowling Alone,” Robert D. Putnam demonstrated how people had become increasingly disconnected from family, friends, neighbors and democratic institutions. You don’t need to be a social scientist to know that the social fabric has hardly been mended in the years since. True, something resembling “communities” have emerged on social media, but online discourse — even in its best form — has proven to be less than nourishing. The “online disinhibition effect” — the tendency of people to act out more frequently or intensely than they would in person — is always lurking. At least one study suggests we are ruder to one another online due to the lack of eye contact. Now, add a once-in-a-century pandemic to the mix. In a May 2021 American Perspectives Survey, Americans reported having fewer close friendships than they once did, talking to their friends less often, and relying less on their friends for personal support. Enter pickleball, which in Marblehead and elsewhere has shown the ability to break through and buck these trends. We may be bowling alone, but we are playing pickleball with a partner — or three. When neighbors come together for some friendly face-to-face competition, they are getting some stress-relieving exercise to boot. Given the obvious benefits, one would think that a commission with “recreation” in its name would bend over backwards to keep a good thing going. Yet to the bitter end, the pickleballers had to fight to get the commission to give an inch. Why, exactly, did the commission need to delay the reopening of the courts until Tuesday (Feb. 22), instead of allowing play over a long holiday weekend? Unclear. And why did the courts then not reopen as planned on that Tuesday? Sure, the weather was less than ideal. But in the first half of the week, some pickleball players showed up ready to play, only to be greeted by locked gates. Tell us again, too, why players are being required to supply their own nets? Or why pickleball programming has not been a priority for Rec & Park — if for no other reason than to allow the town to reap a return on Marblehead Pickleball’s investment? We do not mean to diminish the challenge our local boards often have in balancing competing interests. Nor do we doubt the testimony from neighbors of the Veterans School courts that the sounds of pickleball play in winter travel more easily in the absence of a canopy of vegetation that exists in other seasons. Nonetheless, given the obvious benefits of allowing the pickleball players to pursue their passion, the baseline for the Recreation & Parks Commission should have been “what can we do to keep the courts open?” Closing them should have been a last resort, and getting them reopened should not have required the pickleballers to go to war. As the Current was going to press, pickleball — specifically a “sound mitigation request” — was again on the agenda for the Rec & Parks’ Feb. 28 meeting. Representatives of Marblehead Pickleball told the Current they planned to attend and have no objection to sound mitigation. They just want to play. Here’s hoping that, by the time this editorial hits the streets, some common ground will have been found. Right on its website, the Recreation & Parks Department describes its mission as “to enhance the environment and the quality of life for the residents of Marblehead.” Yes, the mission statement goes on to talk about “care and maintenance” of parks and fields. But the people come first, as it should be. Perhaps current members of the Recreation & Parks Commission should recite the mission statement at the start of meetings and pledge themselves to its stated hierarchy — people first, then facilities.
EVERYTHING WILL BE OKAY
Reconsidering the seagull BY VIRGINIA BUCKINGHAM “Rats with wings.” That’s the common derogatory descriptor about that common sea bird, the gull. Last summer, one wily airborne rodent grabbed an entire overflowing lobster roll from my hand just as I was taking a first bite. Darn rat! Mostly though, gulls are a casually observed but uncontemplated part of our daily landscape. We might notice one pecking at an unlucky crab or perched on a neighbor’s chimney. But we don’t give their presence a second thought, even seconds later. Unexpectedly for me, the merely observed recently became the deeply contemplated. I was given the gift of a week staying in a friend’s apartment overlooking Boston Harbor. It was a respite from construction at home, as well from the frustration of a mobility-reducing broken ankle. Dreams of wandering the city though became the reality of mostly staying put and staring at the view out the apartment window. And oh, what a view! The only object between the oversized glass windows and the water was the flat roof of the federal courthouse. I figured my gaze would be held by the fuel-filled tankers moving through the harbor, the daily commuter ferries, the ubiquitous coast guard craft, the distant Tobin Bridge. In fact, though, it became the courthouse roof itself which held my fascination. Or rather, the late afternoon and evening arrivals on the roof. Starting at about 4:30 p.m., gulls of all shapes and sizes, from all directions, began appearing, descending directly like graceful drones as opposed to the glide path of planes landing on a runway. At first, there were just a handful — three gulls from this direction, two gulls from that. They each arrived alone, some purposeful about choosing their landing spot, others circling above as if checking out their options. Then as the light started to fade, dozens more arrived, then tens of dozens and then seemingly hundreds. It was as if every gull from Chelsea Creek to Castle Island had been summoned to a mandatory family meeting. Because I have the sense of humor of a third grader, I chuckled out loud as I imagined them exchanging gossip from the day. ‘Hey Fred, did you see all the mussels broken open on the dry dock by the Design Center? I did that!’ But mostly, I just watched. The first day. The second. Until I made a point of being at the window at the same time each late afternoon that week. Without effort, the watching transformed into something else, more akin to meditation, conscious of each gull instead of each breath. One early evening, something, a strong gust of wind, or a loud sound, sent all of the gulls back into the sky — some flying so high they looked like black specks about to alight on the emerging stars. The disrupted gulls circled at varying heights, as if contained by an invisible
funnel, hundreds calling out, a dance and a song of their own creation. Eventually, each settled back on the roof. In their exact same spot, like a reserved parking space? Impossible to know, but I wished I did. By dawn, they were gone, I never was up in time to see the departures, to know whether it was a reverse of their arrivals, first a few, then dozens and then tens of dozens flying east or south, all directions of the compass. Passing their day mostly ignored, until they were summoned once again to the roof by the fading light. There was a majesty to their movement, a purpose to their presence. The common sea gull had not only been reconsidered, it had been transformed. Here are a few other items for reconsideration from my week in the city: The Tobin Bridge From my Seaport vantage point, the Tobin looked like a piece from a Thomas the Train toy set, a child’s hand having cantilevered it at the narrow neck of the inner harbor. Unlike its nearby cabled, Springsteenanointed cousin the Zakim, there’s a faded elegance about the Tobin, its green metal profile a relief from the gray and brown winter landscape. I won’t oversell it, it’s no Golden Gate, but it’s cool. And it will be a lifeline for the North Shore when the Sumner Tunnel closes seven days a week this summer.
The Embrace
I’d read the reviews of the newly installed tribute to Martin Luther King Jr. and Coretta Scott King. Many were bluntly unimpressed. I was blown away. The meticulously recreated buttons on his jacket cuff. The bracelet on her arm. The wrinkles on his hand. The nail beds on her fingers. The diversity of people gazing up at it, walking under it, touching it. The handmade memorial to Tyre Nichols nearby. The craftsmanship of The Embrace is extraordinary. The simple message of the power of love was profound.
Cabs
My Uber app was only working intermittently, and as mentioned, I wasn’t walking anywhere fast. I needed a cab. Where were the cabs? What happened to the cab stands? I hobbled from The Embrace to the corner of School and Beacon Streets, a long hobble, because that’s where the cab stand I knew used to be. It was empty. Technology has decimated cabs. I used to not consider what that meant to city life. I’ve reconsidered. What can we do to support traditional cab drivers? I have no larger meaning to impart from these reconsiderations. It was just a good reminder to myself that looking at something from a different vantage point is, in its own small way, transformative. And I wanted to share that thought with you. Virginia Buckingham is a member of the Current’s board of directors. Her column appears weekly.
LETTERS
RE: Living within your budget.... TO THE EDITOR: I would like to echo concerns stated by Mr. Jack Buba in last week’s letter (Feb. 22). Evidently, many town citizens (and administrators) need to be reminded that since 1995 the Marblehead Community Charter Public School (MCCPS) has been successfully operating on a fixed state-funding budget based on a per-pupil expense (PPE). For 28 years, 230 students per year, in fourth through eighth grades, have been receiving a firstclass education without incurring deficits and/or overrides. How does that happen, and why isn’t that possible for all our public school districts? The Massachusetts Education Reform Act of 1993 changed how the Commonwealth supported, administered and funded the education services of our public school students in local school districts. The fact that many MCCPS students go on to high school in advanced placement classes and receive scholarships to
North Shore private high schools enhances the reputation of a public school education administered and operating within budget constraints. Perhaps our town finance and school committees et al. need to be “schooled” on how to manage expenses within our citizen taxpayer means? R.A. EBETTA CHESTNUT STREET
Cross-pollination is critical TO THE EDITOR Just got through reading Virginia Buckingham’s column, “Bringing Back a Bookstore,” and I could not agree more about the void that Spirit of ‘76 left in our community by closing. It cut right to the core and spirit of Marblehead. Marblehead has been faced with years and years of small businesses opening up and closing their doors, almost to the point now where our streets are lined with real estate offices and the dentist office that occupies our former bookstore. Yes, a bookstore sounds like a touching new option for someone to open, but it’s rough out there. Never mind the challenges of the
internet, but Marblehead needs to re-define itself as a destination in terms of a total experience. Throughout the greater North Shore, it is not known as a place to go for a total shopping experience. The Massachusetts Express Grant Program is designed to provide small-to-medium size businesses the tools they need not just to survive, but succeed. It would certainly make a lot of sense if several of the small businesses would consider taking full advantage of this opportunity. To take it to another level, I would imagine the Express Grant Program could help design a strategy to help the town of Marblehead. By the way, the Spirit of ‘76 formerly operated stores in Swampscott, Andover, Newburyport and Marblehead — now only in Andover. If a store is going to survive, my opinion is it has a much better chance if all the stores are strong. Cross-pollination is critical. Shop owners need to pull their resources together to give people a reason to shop in Marblehead. ROBERT M. BROWN ROCKAWAY AVENUE