When a nation's ship comes in

We may have all come on different ships, but we're in the same boat now.

Martin Luther King, Jr.

In a way, the Zumwalt looks like the old ironclad C.S. Virginia.

My son taking in the ceremonies as the the Zumwalt's crew is about to parade before the audience.

The Zumwalt's guns mean business.

BATH — My son learned about the christening of one of the newest U.S. naval warships from a dedicated English teacher at Edward Little High School.

We thought it would be a great experience to witness a small piece of history transpire at Bath Iron Works, which is located 25 miles from our home in Auburn.

After all, we both share a fascination and appreciation for military hardware and its history. Anthony has never lost his fascination with ships. When a tug boat was heading for open water down the Kennebec River during the christening, my son nudged my shoulder and directed my attention to the tug.

My son got clearance from his track coach, who is also a history teacher, to attend the christening. History teachers will do that for athletes who appreciate the past and have a genuine interest in the maritimes.

When we got a good look at the destroyer, we couldn't stop thinking about ironclads. This ship was indeed a throwback from era when wooden warships would quickly disappear in the fog of time.

The colossal destroyer U.S.S. Zumwalt looks like a damn ironclad left over from the American Civil War.

It's angular shapes, austere appearance and the protruding bow reminds me of crude iron warships that policed the seven seas for nearly 30 years before dreadnoughts appeared and traded powerful rounds with each other during World War I.

Open any history book about naval warfare during the Civil War and you will find a picture of the Confederate ironclad C.S.S. Virginia, which slugged it out with the U.S. Monitor for two days in March, 1862 at Hampton Roads, Virginia. The warships were the products of novel designs in naval architecture and engineering, and explained why wooden warships became obsolete in a matter of a few years.

Wood was no match for cold iron.

You can see the startling resemblance between the Zumwalt and Virginia, but of course ironclads would be no match for the $3 billion, 610-foot destroyer which was christened at Bath Iron Works on a warm Saturday morning before a crowd of nearly 6,000 people.

When this big bastard comes your way, find cover in a cave or better yet — leave town. This ship has stealth written all over it and is loaded with technology and firepower that makes this an intimidating and formidable weapon.

I am grateful this leviathan is on our side. Other warships just might go the other way or give the Zumwalt a wide berth when this behemoth appears on the horizon.

The destroyer features a 155mm gun that fires GPS-guided shells at targets more than 60 miles away. The skin of ship makes it harder to be detected by radar and is equipped with long-range missiles. Thanks to the ship's technology, only 158 sailors are required to man a destroyer with a displacement of 15,000 tons and travels at 30 knots. The bow is designed to cut through the water to make this warship sleek and fast. This is a ship with a low profile and perhaps a harder target to attack.

We walked around the huge shipyard before the Zumwalt came into view. Its size and shape is awesome. I snapped away with my Nikon, which also takes high-definition movies. I commend and marvel at the men and women who toil at BIW building these state-of-the-art warships. I had the privilege of viewing the Zumwalt's sister ship — the Michael Monsoor. It is amazing how skilled shipbuilders can put these giant steel puzzles together and create a warship.

But before we witnessed the christening, a slew of dignitaries and politicians began a long procession to the podium to make speeches that were sometimes too long and short on substance. Some of the speakers could have used a good editor with a sturdy red pen.

We crossed paths with a handful of brave sailors who will someday pilot this ship as it travels into harm's way. It takes brave men and women to go to sea for long periods of time. Sure, it's their duty, but this isn't just about taking orders or racing to their posts when battle stations is sounded throughout the ship. It is often a passion and dedication that many civilians can't comprehend.

Anthony and I kept hearing the name Captain James Kirk keeping popping up in some of the speeches. Was William Shatner also present to honor the crew of the Zumwalt? I wondered why Spock, Bones, Scotty and Chekov were not on board, and by the way, where the heck was the Enterprise?

It didn't take us long to figure out Captain James Kirk is a U.S. Naval Academy graduate who will be the first skipper of the Zumwalt, which is named after Admiral Elmo Zumwalt Jr., who shook up the U.S. Navy by getting this particular branch of the service to embrace equal rights.

After two hours of speeches, Anthony and I stood in the crowd as Zumwalt's daughters broke a couple of bottles of the good stuff against the modern ship thick skin.

Was it worth the two-hour wait to witness history at BIW?

This small moment in history brought a father and son closer together and triggered a long and deep conversation during the ride home between two men who truly understand why the past is forever linked to the present and future.

A family affair and a city that remains strong

"The family is a haven in a heartless world." 

Attributed to Christopher Lasch

REVERE, Mass. — I was raised on this beach. Time and weather has changed its appearance, but its sandy shores will always be remembered as my playground during the summers of my youth.

For years, my mother whispered obscenities under her breath as my father navigated our big-ass Buick down a clogged Revere Street on steamy summer days.

If my family didn't leave early, we endured a 20-minute ride through stop-and-go traffic. We didn't have air conditioning in the car. The heat was stifling in our oven-baked automobile. It was a short journey through hell.

Growing up in a coastal community and bathing in the chilly waters of the Atlantic was worth running the gauntlet to spend a day at Revere Beach.

Last weekend, we walked on the warm sand and ignored a chilly sea breeze at America's first public beach. Everybody who is anybody was out and about, and there seemed to be a sense of relief on the streets. People were cordial and the bright sun contributed to my good mood. A couple of weeks have passed since the Boston Marathon bombings. The confusion and fear has subsided despite the ongoing investigation into the attacks.

My father's struggle

There were three important reasons why I visited Revere. We threw a small celebration for one of the U.S. Navy's finest — my niece, who married a Navy guy from the great state of Missouri. It was a fine, sunny cool day on the deck of my sister's home. The Boston skyline is clearly visible from her home. It was an opportunity to meet the in-laws, who also happen to be nice people, too. There was a buffet of Chinese food for well-wishers.

I also spent quality time with my dad who is trying to stay a step ahead of Alzheimer's, but this affliction is malicious and relentless. This is man who earned a master's degree in history. He was a successful high school teacher and baseball coach for 42 years, and here he was struggling to utter simple pronouns,

But my father and I had a memorable Sunday morning after my neice's celebration. Any good day with my dad is a blessing, because there are times when his thoughts are clear and his words come easy, and those moments of clarity mean so much to me.

Big Al speaks quietly as he searches for the right words, which evaporate before he can say them. It hurts him and all of us. We are helpless and often feel hopeless because there is no cure for dementia.

Back on the beach

I tried to coax my father to come along with us to the beach. He politely refused, so we bought him a hot dog and fries from Kelly's Roast Beef — a fast-food joint that claims to be the creator of the first roast beef sandwich. 

Anybody from the Greater Boston area is familiar with Kelly's scrumptious reputation for seafood. Their fish, clam and scallop plates are unbelievable, but you will need to take a small loan to pay for them. Kelly's clam chowder is worth the price, especially on a cold New England day.

When fear and evil strike out

Every time a terrorist strikes, our openness shrinks, freedoms dwindle, and our feelings of suspicion and revenge rise to the top of our emotions.

Four days after we visited the Bay State, my son returned to Boston for a class field trip. Anthony's fearless history teacher had the class visit the Freedom Trail, Paul Revere House, Bunker Hill monument and U.S.S. Constitution. Before he boarded the U.S. Navy's oldest commissioned ship, his classmates were told to remove their belt buckles, searched and advised that any visitor who leaves a bag unattended will be asked to leave the ship.

These guys were not fooling around!

The Navy has always kept a watchful eye on the Constitution, and rightfully so. But due to the Boston Marathon bombings that killed four people and wounded hundreds, law enforcement agencies are on edge, and that means we are all under constant scrutiny when these bastards act.

But their cruel acts didn't prevent a class of wonderful students from Edward Little High School from visiting Beantown last Thursday.  Sure, I worried about my son and the rest of those kids, but when we cower in our homes, terrorists win.

Terror works for a little while, but resilient Americans won't be dictated by fear, and that's how you beat evil.

Just ask the Nazis!

A stitch in time for my valentine

A valentine for Terri

"I was about half in love with her by the time we sat down. That's the thing about girls. Every time they do something pretty... you fall half in love with them, and then you never know where the hell you are."

                                                                                                                                    J. D. Salinger

AUBURN, Maine — I didn’t want to go the traditional route and shower my beloved wife with flowers on Valentine’s Day.

Sure, I purchased a small box of chocolates to go along with a Hallmark card, but my valentine deserved more than a dozen roses and a warm embrace after 22 years of marriage.

Going out to eat and spending a small fortune on food that adds to the waistline was certainly an option.

Been there, done that.

I wanted this token of my love to be unique.

What to do?

Well, it just so happens I was heading to the Waterfront Flea Market located at Fort Andross in Brunswick on Sunday.

Well, we strolled up and down the isles nearly a dozen times, hoping to spot the perfect gift for a woman who has devoted so much of her life to her son and husband.

While my son, Anthony, was busy looking through antique books, I got the notion to check out the dozens of old paintings.

Nothing stood out as I wandered the floor, hoping to find that perfect gift for her. Anthony had settled on the book, “They Were Expendable," a 1942 book about the men who manned the U.S. Navy’s PT boats during World War II.

After another 30 minutes of checking out a treasure-trove of relics from the past, I was about to give up and pay a visit to the florist to purchase roses.

Anthony suggested taking one desperate last look before we shoved off. I peaked inside one room and there it was - Terri’s gift. It was the perfect combination of intricate needle point and cross stitching of an Amish farm scene.

Terri is an Amish fanatic. She reads books about the Amish's way of life and really can't tell you why she has such a fascination with the Amish.

The 12-by-16 needle point was impressive and was done by an 89-year-old women who spent months making each stitch count. I don’t know where this elderly woman got the patience to complete this work of art.

Anthony and I agreed to purchase the needle point with hopes that Terri would appreciate the gift.

When Terri opened the wrap and took a good look at the needle point, she smiled and couldn’t stop thanking me. Anthony said, “Dad, you scored big.”

I knew that 22 years ago when I married Terri.

And justice for all

AUBURN, Maine - Killing Osama bin Laden wasn't the only objective of putting 25 courageous U.S. Navy SEALs in harm's way during an incursion at a fortified home in Abottobad on Monday.


It was justice, and it finally caught up with this murderer who had been on the run for a decade.


Reveling in his death is almost pointless. I  am relieved and delighted that justice was carried out swiftly and judiciously and those 25 brave souls came home without a scratch.


His death is certainly not the end to Al-Qaeda's violence. Unfortunately, there are other fanatics on deck, waiting for the opportunity to commit endless acts of terrorism.


Although justice was delivered by bullets, this raid was necessary to terminate one man who waged an endless campaign of terrorism and murdered thousands of law-abiding, devout Muslims.


I do understand that bin Laden's violent end will not bring Peter Goodrich, a Bates College All-American who was murdered on 911, back from eternity, and nor will it be a comfort to Sally Goodrich, who passed away last December after a long battle with cancer.


The Goodrichs are decent human beings who do not believe in the eye-for-an-eye thing. I am sure bin Laden's death brings no closure to the Goodrich family.


I am grateful to the Navy SEALs' extraordinary 40-minute battle to take down bin Laden despite the enormous risk of losing their own lives. These servicemen were not only in danger of being killed but they had to scurry back across the boarder to avoid the Pakistani air force.


This risky operation was also a difficult call for President Obama, who could have easily ordered an a B-2 air strike and obliterate the compound. But he understood it might be impossible to identify bin Laden's body with all the collateral damage done by the bombing.


Anyway, nice call, Mr. President, and for having the temerity to give the order to shoot to kill.


The last thing this nation, which has endured several wars and a sour economy, needed was giving Osama his day in court. Allowing Osama a court date would be like having Hitler testify at Nuremberg and listen to his ranting and ravings.


A trial would have allowed this despot to spew his hatred and enrage the American public. It would have cost this country millions to try this killer and then make him a martyr when we executed him.


I believe Americans would have little patience for bin Laden's presence on American shores.


And burying bin Laden at sea was also the right move after no country wanted his corpse. I can see why such nations as Saudi Arabia didn't want to be responsible for his burial. I'll bet his body would have incited unrest no matter where bin Laden was laid to rest.


Again, congratulations to President Obama and the Navy SEALs for a job well done.