By Josh Salm/Staff Writer
OLD TOWN — For a long time, the Internet has been a confusing maze of Web sites, urls and dot-coms that has fed the public’s desire for 24/7 news organizations, sports pages like ProFootballTalk.com and ESPN and social networking sites so we don’t actually have to leave our house to be social and informed — just as long as the internet connection holds up.
One of those social networking sites that has led to the demise of social contact for countless Americans is Facebook. It was created back when I was in college, and at that time the only people that could join were students from certain colleges. It was there to basically for kids to message each other to get together for a bite to eat, a study session (or video game session) or a place to party.
Since then, the site has been opened up to the public and it has now exploded in size and scope. Apparently I’m friends with over 250 people through Facebook, many of whom I know well and are family and friends from home, college or people I know outside of work.
However, with the doors opening for the public to access this popular Web site, public groups and businesses are creating their own site profiles as well. For instance, take the Greenville Police Department, who started a page as part of a community outreach program. It has since taken off, with the department having 161 friends as of Thursday. The department has used the site for everything from keeping up with people in the community to informing people about how much snow fell this past winter.
And by no means is the Greenville PD alone in this. The Auburn Police Department, the Maine Emergency Management Agency, the IFW and so many other organizations have a site on their too. It’s a free and easy way to get the word out on what they are doing, and with the update feature in Facebook, any news these groups post goes directly to each user. It’s easier than e-mail and faster than snail mail.
Heck, it’s becoming so widespread that you can even become a fan of Moosehead Furniture in Monson through Facebook. I only know that because a friend on the site suggested I do so.
It’s likely only a matter of time before groups such as local businessmen, nature-based places such as Gulf Hagas and Borestone Mountain and even towns like Dover-Foxcroft and Dexter tap into this resource to get the word about weekly events, upcoming meetings and even one-time specials.
The further technology seeps into our lives, the more confusing the line between professional and personal lives become. I just have to wonder, though, would it be strange to become friends with Gulf Hagas, and what exactly is the appropriate way to throw a sheep at Dover-Foxcroft through the site’s SuperPoke application? Apparently it’s what the cool kids do.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Another voir dire at the courthouse
By Josh Salm/Staff Writer
BANGOR — You learn something new every day, I’m told. About a week ago I learned that the French term “voir dire” means painfully long day. At least that’s what I got from my day of jury selection on April 9 in the Superior Courtroom at the Penobscot County Courthouse.
Actually, voir dire is the term that was used for jury selection, the process in which a prosecution and defense goes about selecting a jury for the upcoming trial. That’s what the early 1990s gentlemen on the TV screen was telling the assembly of 200 people in the courtroom in his obnoxious tone of voice where you could tell he was hiding a Downeast accent and failing miserably. It was hard not to laugh when he tried too hard to sound all proper, then he blurts out “Jur-AH.” Ha! I love it.
Anyway, jury duty — it is the common person’s civic obligation to rule on a court case. Our forefathers decided that court cases in this nation would be ruled on by a group of people in the community who don’t have ties to the case. They are the nameless people who fill the juror’s box in the courtroom that are the target of the prosecution and defense. You know, like in Law and Order.
For a day, I was one of those nameless people. When I reached the third-floor courtroom that morning, I traded my name in for a number — 122, to be exact. As in high school, I headed for the back of the room in hopes to stay as far away from the lawyers as possible in the hopes that the farther I was away from them the less likely it was that I would get chosen by the teacher, or in this case the lawyers.
The Superior Courtroom was packed from end to end with other people that wanted to be there in varying degrees. Next to me sat a retired lawyer who found the whole process interesting, at least from that side of the chair. Not far from us sat Juror No. 204, our comic relief for the day.
For those of who haven’t served, jury selection consists of the jury pool being asked a whole slew of somewhat random questions that somehow pertain to the court case. If you feel that question pertains to you, you stand up, state your number when called upon and sit back down. That’s it.
So, the judge would ask, “Do you know John Doe, a witness to this alleged crime?” Let’s say I did, I’d stand up and state “122” when asked who I was. Then I would be asked if I knew Mr. Doe personally or professionally and if my knowing him would hurt the way I judge the case in some way. After that I sat down.
Given that I have only lived in the area for two years, I knew no one — for better or for worse.
However, the fun questions came later, such as “Are you of the group that believes marijuana should be legalized?” Of course, out of the 200 people in the courtroom, a few stood up. That included Juror 204, who also stood up for every question that could possibly get him from being selected for jury duty. He was the class clown of the jury pool.
So when he called out his number to the judge, everyone chuckled. The judge seemed to roll his eyes and kept moving to the next question. The minute the judge announced it, 199 heads turned straight to 204 to see exactly what he was going to do. We all kind of expected it, but still couldn’t avoid watching and waiting.
“Are you of the group that believes cocaine should be legalized?” the judge asked.
Up stood Juror 204, with a grin stretching from his face from one ear to the next.
“I half expected you to stand up for that,” the judge responded. Everyone else began to burst out in laughter. It was a welcome break from the doldrums of the long day.
Two juries were selected that day. To select a jury, the court clerks would “randomly” select us by putting our numbers in a roller and spinning it like a bingo ball.
Now, I’m not saying the state of Maine is not being random in their methods of choosing me for jury duty, then again to sit on the jury, mainly because I don’t want to go to jail. However, it does seem odd that I have been preliminarily selected to sit on two juries in two months.
The second I heard the clerk announce my number, my heart raced. Upon announcing my number, I was to stand up and be stared at by the lawyers to decide in those split seconds if I was worthy enough to make the final cut and serve.
Both times, I didn’t make the cut. I don’t know what the lawyers saw in me that they didn’t like, but it works for me. If I was chosen, I would serve because it is my civic duty and part of me has this patriotic sense of doing whatever my country asks of me.
That being said, if I could get out of another voir dire by not being chosen to serve, that’s fine by me.
BANGOR — You learn something new every day, I’m told. About a week ago I learned that the French term “voir dire” means painfully long day. At least that’s what I got from my day of jury selection on April 9 in the Superior Courtroom at the Penobscot County Courthouse.
Actually, voir dire is the term that was used for jury selection, the process in which a prosecution and defense goes about selecting a jury for the upcoming trial. That’s what the early 1990s gentlemen on the TV screen was telling the assembly of 200 people in the courtroom in his obnoxious tone of voice where you could tell he was hiding a Downeast accent and failing miserably. It was hard not to laugh when he tried too hard to sound all proper, then he blurts out “Jur-AH.” Ha! I love it.
Anyway, jury duty — it is the common person’s civic obligation to rule on a court case. Our forefathers decided that court cases in this nation would be ruled on by a group of people in the community who don’t have ties to the case. They are the nameless people who fill the juror’s box in the courtroom that are the target of the prosecution and defense. You know, like in Law and Order.
For a day, I was one of those nameless people. When I reached the third-floor courtroom that morning, I traded my name in for a number — 122, to be exact. As in high school, I headed for the back of the room in hopes to stay as far away from the lawyers as possible in the hopes that the farther I was away from them the less likely it was that I would get chosen by the teacher, or in this case the lawyers.
The Superior Courtroom was packed from end to end with other people that wanted to be there in varying degrees. Next to me sat a retired lawyer who found the whole process interesting, at least from that side of the chair. Not far from us sat Juror No. 204, our comic relief for the day.
For those of who haven’t served, jury selection consists of the jury pool being asked a whole slew of somewhat random questions that somehow pertain to the court case. If you feel that question pertains to you, you stand up, state your number when called upon and sit back down. That’s it.
So, the judge would ask, “Do you know John Doe, a witness to this alleged crime?” Let’s say I did, I’d stand up and state “122” when asked who I was. Then I would be asked if I knew Mr. Doe personally or professionally and if my knowing him would hurt the way I judge the case in some way. After that I sat down.
Given that I have only lived in the area for two years, I knew no one — for better or for worse.
However, the fun questions came later, such as “Are you of the group that believes marijuana should be legalized?” Of course, out of the 200 people in the courtroom, a few stood up. That included Juror 204, who also stood up for every question that could possibly get him from being selected for jury duty. He was the class clown of the jury pool.
So when he called out his number to the judge, everyone chuckled. The judge seemed to roll his eyes and kept moving to the next question. The minute the judge announced it, 199 heads turned straight to 204 to see exactly what he was going to do. We all kind of expected it, but still couldn’t avoid watching and waiting.
“Are you of the group that believes cocaine should be legalized?” the judge asked.
Up stood Juror 204, with a grin stretching from his face from one ear to the next.
“I half expected you to stand up for that,” the judge responded. Everyone else began to burst out in laughter. It was a welcome break from the doldrums of the long day.
Two juries were selected that day. To select a jury, the court clerks would “randomly” select us by putting our numbers in a roller and spinning it like a bingo ball.
Now, I’m not saying the state of Maine is not being random in their methods of choosing me for jury duty, then again to sit on the jury, mainly because I don’t want to go to jail. However, it does seem odd that I have been preliminarily selected to sit on two juries in two months.
The second I heard the clerk announce my number, my heart raced. Upon announcing my number, I was to stand up and be stared at by the lawyers to decide in those split seconds if I was worthy enough to make the final cut and serve.
Both times, I didn’t make the cut. I don’t know what the lawyers saw in me that they didn’t like, but it works for me. If I was chosen, I would serve because it is my civic duty and part of me has this patriotic sense of doing whatever my country asks of me.
That being said, if I could get out of another voir dire by not being chosen to serve, that’s fine by me.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Maine's road culprits
By Josh Salm/Staff Writer
SOMEWHERE ON RT. 94 — As I listened to the Boston Celtics struggle to beat the Charlotte Bobcats the other night, the voice of my driving instructor echoed in my head on that long, dark drive as I made my way east from Dexter to Corinth following a school board meeting.
“Now remember, look down the left side of the roadway, then the right side, then look ahead, and repeat. Left, right, middle… left, right, middle. Hey put two hands on the car. Oh look, a gas station, turn in here. I need more food,” said the man our class all knew simply as Brian, the grossly overweight, sketchy Driver’s Ed instructor.
So, while I made my way home that night along the winding state road, my eyes automatically began to scan the road like I was taught to do nearly 10 years ago. One reason for this was to look out deer, those pesky animals that somehow are no where to be found when I’m out hunting but I can see them just fine out the windshield of my truck all the time.
Now that the snow is nearly gone and the grasses are turning green again, deer are out in full force again. There were three deer along the roads that night, though all of them were far enough off the road that they did not cause too much concern.
See, it was not the deer I was afraid of in the roadway. It’s not that I’m looking to hit a deer, because I know they can cause a good bit of damage. It’s just that, at least with deer they have eyes that shine back when the headlights hit them, giving me some warning.
No, it’s something more sinister I was on the lookout for that night, something that can create a lot of damage and causes me to tense up every time I take to the roadway.
The culprits: potholes and frost heaves, the inevitable destroyer of Maine roadways.
They sneak up out of nowhere, picking up a normally flat roadbed or dropping it down a foot from the original position in some spots, pulling in a tire and jerking you and your car all over the roadway. Suspensions creak and moan, wanting no more of the pain. Drivers cringe, weave and maneuver around these obstacles as if they were making their way through a wreck on a NASCAR track.
With the snow and ice cleared off the roadways and the frost heaves starting to settle, it is becoming painfully obvious just how bad the roadways in the region are getting — and the sad part is many of the worst roads are state routes. A large section of Route 7 between Dover-Foxcroft and Dexter is getting so bad that I will go out of my way to Route 23 to avoid having my teeth chatter all the way to the Shiretown’s neighbor to the south.
There are countless other roads that are getting bad too, like most of route 6/15 between Guilford and Greenville and Route 6/16 between Dover-Foxcroft and Milo. Heck, Route 6/16 from Orneville and Milo looks like it was just repaved a few years back and it is already littered with frost heaves and potholes.
In all honesty, every path from I-95 to Piscataquis County is a ride that will test a car’s suspension, a person’s driving skills, as well as their aversion to pain and suffering. At least when the DOT fixes Route 15 south of Dover-Foxcroft between Charlotte White and Foxbrook, that there will be one smooth(er) ride into one city in the county. Now what about the other 16 cities, two plantations and part of the UTs?
And what about Dexter? Route 7 in downtown Dexter is just awful as well, and that shocks me because it’s in middle of town. That’s a road that needs to be fixed just to help the town maintain some kind of business flow through the city without diverting traffic to all of its side streets.
I’ve bounced along miles of these roads over the past few months with my new pick-up truck, going to one meeting or the next. Each day I take to the roads, I tense up because I know I’ll inevitably hit some kind of road hazard and I shutter at the thought of damaging my new wheels this early into my ownership of it (wait, the bank’s ownership of the truck that I get to drive and pay for).
To put it in perspective, I just sent in my third truck payment and I already have an appointment to take it to the auto shop to have the front struts replaced. Three months, 6,000 miles and now two new struts. And I’m fairly certain that I hit a substantial pothole that fateful night from Dexter that has knocked my alignment all out of whack as well.
I guess all I can say is “Thanks, Maine DOT.” Thanks for the roller coaster ride along your roadways you put all of us through every day and for putting that obnoxious voice of Brian’s back into my head. At least I won’t fall asleep any time soon.
SOMEWHERE ON RT. 94 — As I listened to the Boston Celtics struggle to beat the Charlotte Bobcats the other night, the voice of my driving instructor echoed in my head on that long, dark drive as I made my way east from Dexter to Corinth following a school board meeting.
“Now remember, look down the left side of the roadway, then the right side, then look ahead, and repeat. Left, right, middle… left, right, middle. Hey put two hands on the car. Oh look, a gas station, turn in here. I need more food,” said the man our class all knew simply as Brian, the grossly overweight, sketchy Driver’s Ed instructor.
So, while I made my way home that night along the winding state road, my eyes automatically began to scan the road like I was taught to do nearly 10 years ago. One reason for this was to look out deer, those pesky animals that somehow are no where to be found when I’m out hunting but I can see them just fine out the windshield of my truck all the time.
Now that the snow is nearly gone and the grasses are turning green again, deer are out in full force again. There were three deer along the roads that night, though all of them were far enough off the road that they did not cause too much concern.
See, it was not the deer I was afraid of in the roadway. It’s not that I’m looking to hit a deer, because I know they can cause a good bit of damage. It’s just that, at least with deer they have eyes that shine back when the headlights hit them, giving me some warning.
No, it’s something more sinister I was on the lookout for that night, something that can create a lot of damage and causes me to tense up every time I take to the roadway.
The culprits: potholes and frost heaves, the inevitable destroyer of Maine roadways.
They sneak up out of nowhere, picking up a normally flat roadbed or dropping it down a foot from the original position in some spots, pulling in a tire and jerking you and your car all over the roadway. Suspensions creak and moan, wanting no more of the pain. Drivers cringe, weave and maneuver around these obstacles as if they were making their way through a wreck on a NASCAR track.
With the snow and ice cleared off the roadways and the frost heaves starting to settle, it is becoming painfully obvious just how bad the roadways in the region are getting — and the sad part is many of the worst roads are state routes. A large section of Route 7 between Dover-Foxcroft and Dexter is getting so bad that I will go out of my way to Route 23 to avoid having my teeth chatter all the way to the Shiretown’s neighbor to the south.
There are countless other roads that are getting bad too, like most of route 6/15 between Guilford and Greenville and Route 6/16 between Dover-Foxcroft and Milo. Heck, Route 6/16 from Orneville and Milo looks like it was just repaved a few years back and it is already littered with frost heaves and potholes.
In all honesty, every path from I-95 to Piscataquis County is a ride that will test a car’s suspension, a person’s driving skills, as well as their aversion to pain and suffering. At least when the DOT fixes Route 15 south of Dover-Foxcroft between Charlotte White and Foxbrook, that there will be one smooth(er) ride into one city in the county. Now what about the other 16 cities, two plantations and part of the UTs?
And what about Dexter? Route 7 in downtown Dexter is just awful as well, and that shocks me because it’s in middle of town. That’s a road that needs to be fixed just to help the town maintain some kind of business flow through the city without diverting traffic to all of its side streets.
I’ve bounced along miles of these roads over the past few months with my new pick-up truck, going to one meeting or the next. Each day I take to the roads, I tense up because I know I’ll inevitably hit some kind of road hazard and I shutter at the thought of damaging my new wheels this early into my ownership of it (wait, the bank’s ownership of the truck that I get to drive and pay for).
To put it in perspective, I just sent in my third truck payment and I already have an appointment to take it to the auto shop to have the front struts replaced. Three months, 6,000 miles and now two new struts. And I’m fairly certain that I hit a substantial pothole that fateful night from Dexter that has knocked my alignment all out of whack as well.
I guess all I can say is “Thanks, Maine DOT.” Thanks for the roller coaster ride along your roadways you put all of us through every day and for putting that obnoxious voice of Brian’s back into my head. At least I won’t fall asleep any time soon.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Extreme Makeover: Dover Edition
By Josh Salm/Staff writer
Every once in a while a story or an idea will cross my desk that I don’t really digest until hours later, whether I am at home or on the road when I have a moment to really think it through.
The occurrence happened again on Wednesday, when I got an e-mail from Jim Macomber about Extreme Home Makeover looking to come back to Maine to give another family in this state the gift of a brand new sprawling home and a vacation to Disney Land.
At first, I thought nothing of it. There are countless homes in Piscataquis County that could use a helping hand from Ty Pennington and his overly-positive crew of designers and builders, and there are numerous well-deserving families in this county that would benefit from by hearing their stories of giving and sacrifice.
Plus, the vacation to Disney Land would be nice bonus.
This is what Extreme Makeover: Home Edition is all about. Tell the story about the family and what troubles they are going through, tear down the home with a lot of flair, march in with the volunteers and build a new home – rain or shine – in seven days and give it back to the family in a big ceremony.
Extreme Home Makeover is about doing everything in a big way. It brings in the ratings. It allows the drama to ooze from the TV set and makes a deep connection with the audience.
The thing is, the crew has done so many home rebuilds over the years that it must be getting old. I can just imagine one of the crew saying, “Been there, done that; bring on next site.”
So here’s my idea: let’s give the crew of Extreme Home Makeover another option, something they haven’t done before – rebuild Moosehead Manufacturing. It would be like Extreme Town Makeover.
Right now the whole site belongs to the town of Dover-Foxcroft as a tax-acquired property. Moosehead Manufacturing is no longer the problem for the old owners, but for the town and for the Piscataquis County Economic Development Council. The options for the building seem limited right now, but that could all change with a little help by a massive volunteer construction crew and a few TV cameras.
This is what I came up with for the new Moosehead Neighborhood Block (it’s an early concept title).
Instead of tearing down the building and constructing a new home in seven days, the crew could come in with a mission to rebuild Moosehead Manufacturing into a multi-use facility and restore its exterior to its historic façade.
Inside Moosehead, the front part would be a all-in-one neighborhood section. There would be a whole series of first-floor businesses such as a sports bar, flower shop, thrift store and a sporting goods store, the second floor would be low-income apartments.
In the back, there could be a community center, bowling alley and an indoor sports field/skate park built for the kids. It would be utilized by kids and adults alike all year long, especially high school students wanting to train in sports like tennis, baseball and softball. Plus it would help keep skateboarders off the narrow sidewalks in town.
The rooftop would be a closed-in, greenhouse-style community garden, with water drainage set up to run into a storm drain. A dock could be built in back to allow canoes, kayaks and small boats access the river.
The kicker, power for the whole structure could come from, or at least be supplemented, with solar and hydro-electric power, lowering the overall cost of the structure for the town.
All this would do a number of things: build a target for the center of Dover-Foxcroft to bring in tourists and residents alike, to give the town a tax income and save a historic structure in the county. Heck, a renovated Moosehead may bring in a developer who would run the facility.
It’s a win-win for all involved.
Now how do we convince Extreme Home Makeover of this?
Here’s how. Go online to http://abc.go.com/primetime/xtremehome/index?pn=apply and nominate Moosehead Manufacturing. It’s worth a shot. What’s the worst thing that happens? Moosehead stands vacant?
Even if you don’t want to nominate Moosehead Manufacturing for renovations, tell the Extreme Home Makeover team about a neighbor that could use a hand or even yourself and try to bring that group to Piscataquis County. Remember, anything to help one part of the county helps the whole county.
Every once in a while a story or an idea will cross my desk that I don’t really digest until hours later, whether I am at home or on the road when I have a moment to really think it through.
The occurrence happened again on Wednesday, when I got an e-mail from Jim Macomber about Extreme Home Makeover looking to come back to Maine to give another family in this state the gift of a brand new sprawling home and a vacation to Disney Land.
At first, I thought nothing of it. There are countless homes in Piscataquis County that could use a helping hand from Ty Pennington and his overly-positive crew of designers and builders, and there are numerous well-deserving families in this county that would benefit from by hearing their stories of giving and sacrifice.
Plus, the vacation to Disney Land would be nice bonus.
This is what Extreme Makeover: Home Edition is all about. Tell the story about the family and what troubles they are going through, tear down the home with a lot of flair, march in with the volunteers and build a new home – rain or shine – in seven days and give it back to the family in a big ceremony.
Extreme Home Makeover is about doing everything in a big way. It brings in the ratings. It allows the drama to ooze from the TV set and makes a deep connection with the audience.
The thing is, the crew has done so many home rebuilds over the years that it must be getting old. I can just imagine one of the crew saying, “Been there, done that; bring on next site.”
So here’s my idea: let’s give the crew of Extreme Home Makeover another option, something they haven’t done before – rebuild Moosehead Manufacturing. It would be like Extreme Town Makeover.
Right now the whole site belongs to the town of Dover-Foxcroft as a tax-acquired property. Moosehead Manufacturing is no longer the problem for the old owners, but for the town and for the Piscataquis County Economic Development Council. The options for the building seem limited right now, but that could all change with a little help by a massive volunteer construction crew and a few TV cameras.
This is what I came up with for the new Moosehead Neighborhood Block (it’s an early concept title).
Instead of tearing down the building and constructing a new home in seven days, the crew could come in with a mission to rebuild Moosehead Manufacturing into a multi-use facility and restore its exterior to its historic façade.
Inside Moosehead, the front part would be a all-in-one neighborhood section. There would be a whole series of first-floor businesses such as a sports bar, flower shop, thrift store and a sporting goods store, the second floor would be low-income apartments.
In the back, there could be a community center, bowling alley and an indoor sports field/skate park built for the kids. It would be utilized by kids and adults alike all year long, especially high school students wanting to train in sports like tennis, baseball and softball. Plus it would help keep skateboarders off the narrow sidewalks in town.
The rooftop would be a closed-in, greenhouse-style community garden, with water drainage set up to run into a storm drain. A dock could be built in back to allow canoes, kayaks and small boats access the river.
The kicker, power for the whole structure could come from, or at least be supplemented, with solar and hydro-electric power, lowering the overall cost of the structure for the town.
All this would do a number of things: build a target for the center of Dover-Foxcroft to bring in tourists and residents alike, to give the town a tax income and save a historic structure in the county. Heck, a renovated Moosehead may bring in a developer who would run the facility.
It’s a win-win for all involved.
Now how do we convince Extreme Home Makeover of this?
Here’s how. Go online to http://abc.go.com/primetime/xtremehome/index?pn=apply and nominate Moosehead Manufacturing. It’s worth a shot. What’s the worst thing that happens? Moosehead stands vacant?
Even if you don’t want to nominate Moosehead Manufacturing for renovations, tell the Extreme Home Makeover team about a neighbor that could use a hand or even yourself and try to bring that group to Piscataquis County. Remember, anything to help one part of the county helps the whole county.
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