Greetings and salutations from the sand, sun and surf of Cape Cod, Martha’s Vineyard and the great island of Nantucket! So good, as always, to be with you on this very, very cold twenty second day of January, 2011, here in the tiny, tiny town of Osterville, nestled on little old Cape Cod, Massachusetts. As I have said many times before, this seaside village, once called “Oysterville”, is only a football toss away from Hyannisport, the home of the late, great President Jack Kennedy, Jackie Kennedy, Bobby, Teddy, Eunice and the rest of a family that literally changed the world. I would like to dedicate this “commentary” to a man who I consider to be a friend and one who, too, “changed the world.” Mr. Keith Olbermann, of the famous “Countdown, with Keith Olbermann”, I just learned a few moments ago, is resigning his post from that rather scary “outpost” you see on the graphic every night. With pinball motion, the numbers, “five, four, three, two, and ONE” would be seen in their boldest grandeur, as the stringed instruments, that often accompanied the organ during the “worst persons in the world” segment, that received rave reviews, cajole the viewer into believing that something of importance, of significance, was about to be witnessed. And they would have been right. For here is a man, a man who went to college in my neck of the woods, the upper Adirondack mountain range, for we played in the same conference, the ECAC, and I attended several hockey games at his alma mater, Cornell, located in Ithaca, New York, a two hour drive south from the University of Vermont, located in Burlington, Vermont. Yes, here is a man who I watched on Sports Center, and one of the reasons I watched that show when I would come home from a long day of corporate hog wash in some glass tower in some city, be it Boston, Detroit, New York, Denver, San Francisco, or Newport Beach, California, was simply to just sit down and laugh, while gaining some knowledge of how my San Francisco 49er’s were doing, and how was Joe Montana anyway? I would watch later, as I left that corporate world, determined to become the writer that I always knew I was, I would watch later, sitting in a state of FEAR, living in the area of the country I always had dreamed of returning to, Cape Cod, and literally became that writer. The problem I had was that when I arrived on Cape Cod, in July of 2003, the ‘God’s of fate’ had other things in mind for me, funny how that works, for if you really want to make GOD laugh, tell him your plans, for it is good to plan, but don’t ‘plan’ the outcome. When I arrived on Nantucket island, it was not something out of a fairy tale, as I was truly ‘winging it’, as I had just broken up with my girlfriend in Denver, and I decided to go back, for the third time to this magical place called “the Cape and the Islands”, and, as I had been to Nantucket for Christmas strolls, actually lived on the island for part of the winter of 1998, working for Island Airlines, and visiting many times during the summers when I worked and lived in Boston, I figured that would be the only place to not only heal a broken heart, but also gain the necessary inspiration to begin a writing career I had no idea how to begin, what to write, or where to write it, moreover, I knew that I would be safe, for I had never had an ounce of fear, from anywhere in the world, and certainly not my beloved Nantucket. So, I went, and, you will have to read, “Taking Fog to Nantucket”, to get the full story, as I had previously mentioned, the God’s of fate had other things in mind for me that day. Suffice to say, after a Nantucket police officer had falsely arrested me, I was handcuffed, and then deliberately tripped, with my hands bound behind my back, then had my head violently forced into the cobblestones below, face first, shattering my skull and leaving me in a pool of blood, I was rocked to the core, shattered, torn and in a coma. Fortunately for me, I have witnesses. The point is, that horrific act of violence to a person who abhors it, was a shock, and thus, I lived in a constant state of FEAR. It was not until I moved to Osterville, in 2005, and began the process of rehabilitation, as I had no idea, until the year 2007, that I had PTSD, or “post traumatic stress disorder, severe delayed onset”, that ‘things’ started to turn around, slowly, painfully, slowly. For it was then that I began writing my first book, “Taking Fog to Nantucket”, and if it were not for some dear people that I love here on the Cape, my grandmother, and this man, to which I am writing about, Keith Olbermann, I would not have made it. Night after agonizing night, I would religiously watch the “show” as we call it around here, and was happy to turn quite a few people on to “it”. You know, the TRUTH. Keith’s badgering of BUSH and his cronies was the badge of courage I most needed at the time, for I was in complete and utter fear of authority and especially the scary notion’s of that previously horrible administration. I called it “exposure therapy”, and as I worked very hard with therapists, read many great books and APPLIED the principals therein, I was able to get over my “fear” and realize that it was all in my mind, a “brain cloud”, (source, the classic Tom Hanks film, “Joe versus the Volcano”) if you will. The only one who could have reached me was a smart ass sports caster, as I am a former athlete of sorts, I guess, and listening to him take on “the man”, the LIES and the criminality belying so much of our befuddled and mixed up world, it would give me courage and PURPOSE to get up every morning, with a smile on my face, and make the most of this short, wonderful, crazy life we all SHARE. I have never known any other way, yet, when I was assaulted on my favorite island in the world, I somehow lost my way, as I lived in a constant state of FEAR, living from second to second, knowing that at any moment I could go off into the abyss of despair, hopelessness, and blackness. This is a very real reality for many of our young men and women who are coming home from foreign WARS, and yet, many do not get help because of some GOD DAMN stigma. Much like an alcoholic does not like the de-humanizing abusive use of the word, “alcoholic”, suggesting he or she is less of a human being for having an allergy to alcohol, soldiers with PTSD, most of whom do not even know they have it, feel as though they will be judged for being “weak” if admitting they are in FEAR, and thus, will tragically not get the help they need and deserve. Keith Olbermann gave those soldiers a voice, he brought forth a LIGHT that shown as bright as the bars of ORION and brought forth the TRUTH that has changed journalism forever. Great talents such as Rachel Maddow, Lawrence O’Donnell, Ed Shultz, just to name a few, not to mention all of the wonderful REAL pundits he would have on regularly, rose out of the dust bin that was the 2000’s, all due, in a large part, to a sports “guy” named Keith. WE will miss you KEITH, and from all of us here, at the last radio outpost on a little sand bar created 11,500 years ago by the Last Great Ice Age, seacapecod.net, and me, Michael Mosier, WE LOVE YOU! and, may the wind always be at your back, the sun always be shinin’ on your face, and the road ALWAYS RISE TO MEET YOU. Until we meet again, GOD’S SPEED SIR and thank you, from the bottom of my heart. PRESERVE THE WILDERNESS! Peace~M
January 22, 2011
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