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A Little Magazine
by and for the
Residents of Southport
Number 11
April 1, 2011
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Just Kiddin' | |
 Most residents of our little 'active adult' village are probably beyond the stage in life where we find whoopee cushions hilarious. And I think it's safe to assume that none of us would be amused by having a "Kick Me" sign pinned to our increasingly fragile backs.
Still, when April 1 rolls around, some of us have an urge to do something to observe this annual invitation to be foolish. So in this edition of SVV, we've abandoned our grasp on reality and let our imaginations run amok. We had fun writing our little "what if" stories and we hope you have fun reading them.
A more sober-headed version of SVV for April will be sent out next Friday. Just didn't want to swamp you with more email than you can handle at one time.
David Kapp, Editor
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SOUTHPORT PROFILE
Paul & Paulette Pontifico
FBI Agent Meets Polynesian Maiden
an interview with Rick Farren
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Due to the sensitive nature of his FBI career, we have been asked not to show Paul's face. |
I had no doubt when I first undertook interview assignments for Southport Village Voices that they would be fantastic armchair adventures. This perception became especially true when I was asked to interview Paul and Paulette Pontifico. This couple captures your imagination with their tales that range from shootouts with hardened criminals to romance in tropical island settings graced by swaying palm trees and cooled by balmy trade winds.
Paul was born at home in 1927 in the nondescript, dusty town of Spirit, in Beaver County just inside the Oklahoma panhandle. The town's claim to fame rested on its being the birthplace of a number of notorious western outlaws such as Ike Clanton and his brothers. Born in the midst of the Great Depression, Paul grew up desperately poor on a chicken farm. He was the oldest of six rambunctious boys, and at the age of six he was considered old enough to do chores and to help support the family by peddling eggs to the neighbors and local farmers.
A less than average student, Paul admitted that he struggled through his formative years in school, dividing his time between earning money and the daily drudgery of schoolwork. The dismal years dragged on until one day, while waiting his turn for a haircut, he was captivated by images in the Saturday Post of the sinking of the USS Oklahoma at its berth in Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. His anger against the Japanese involved in the sneak attack boiled inside him and he couldn't wait to enlist in the Navy to get back at the enemy. Also, by doing so he could send his paychecks home to continue helping out his family.
By studying hard in high school and burning the midnight oil he improved his grades dramatically. In 1943, at the tender age of 16 and capitalizing on his height, he had no trouble enlisting without his parent's approval. Regretfully, his decision to join the Navy required that he drop out of school.
Two months later he graduated from boot camp in Bainbridge, Maryland and passed an exam for a low level clerical job in Naval Intelligence. He quickly worked his way up in rank, obtained his GED and ended up graduating from college. He was accepted into OCS and by the time he was 22 he was commissioned as an ensign.
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This lovely portrait of Paolimoi (now Paulette) hangs over the mantle of the Pontifico home on Pine Hills Boulevard. |
His assignments over the years had taken him to many exotic lands, and at 23 he courted and married a Polynesian beauty named Paolimoi Kokokomo, the youngest of 17 siblings. She was from the beautiful island of Totolamano, part of a remote group of miniature islands strung together like pearls on a necklace of the Marianas chain.
It took a lot of good will and persuasion to win over her parents, who were not at all pleased with their daughter's choice for a husband-primarily because he was an outsider and had no ties to her tribal heritage. To the parents, it was a mixed marriage of the worst kind. Eventually, after many nights of promoting his many attributes to Paolimoi's mother, she relented and gave them her blessing.
I asked Paul, "Other than her mother, what was the biggest hurdle you had to overcome?" He grinned, a big Oklahoma farm boy grin, and said, "I worried about being able to pronounce her first name when introducing her to relatives and friends. I just couldn't imagine fumbling over her name every time for the next however many years we'd be married."
"And your answer to that dilemma was what?" I inquired. "I suggested," Paul said, "in a nice way of course, that she consider taking my deceased grandmother's name: Paulette. To my surprise she was delighted with the idea of carrying on a family name. She explained that doing so would make her parents happy and would be in keeping with her tribal practice, since she had been named after her grandmother as well. That alone cemented our relationship for eternity."
At age 26, having served 10 years in the Navy and researching his civilian options, Paul applied to the FBI. To his surprise his application was accepted almost immediately and he resigned his Navy commission. At the time, he and Paulette were stationed in Sasebo, Japan. Paulette had learned to speak and write Japanese fluently, assuming that it might help her job opportunities once they relocated to the States. Paul was ordered to report for indoctrination and training in 30 days. They left Japan and got a small apartment outside of Washington, D.C.
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While assigned to the San Francisco FBI Office, Paul (lower right) assisted in the arrest of a notorius serial killer. . |
Once his training was finished he was assigned, as he knew he would be, to a
remote field office in South Dakota. His major investigation in his three years there was tracking down a counterfeiter of twenty-dollar bills. However, his career took off when he was assigned to the San Francisco field office and was instrumental in solving a high profile case involving a serial killer. Before he knew it, he was transferred from one promising field office assignment to another, eventually being promoted to the prestigious rank of Special Agent in Charge of the Boston FBI office. Paulette secured a wonderful high-level position with the government as a Japanese interpreter and they both retired after 25 years of government service.
Paul just celebrated his 85th birthday, and Paulette surprised him with a month-long vacation in Totolamano. It was the first time he's been back to the beautiful island since he proposed to her.
The Pontificos moved to Southport in 2008, occupying a Vineyard model on Pine Hills Boulevard that Paulette has decorated exquisitely in a South Pacific motif. They have never looked back since Southport affords them all the amenities of a resort. You can usually find them either at the pools or on the tennis courts.
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REAL ESTATE
Southport Real Estate Values Soar
Bidding Wars Common as Buyers Vie for Choice Units
by Joy Evans
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We are all so lucky! In stark contrast to the national trend of falling home prices, Southport has captured the condo market and units are selling like hotcakes! Don't be surprised if a realtor knocks on your door and asks to list your condo for sale. She may tell you that Southport condos are currently going for twice their original selling price. Don't believe her. The truth is, Southport condos may be garnering as much as three times their original price.
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Mary Morton was recently offered $875,000 for her Nantucket unit and couldn't resist. She took the money and bought this darling 500 sq.ft. seasonal cottage on the beach, featuring an outdoor shower! The interior needs a little updating but the views are just gorgeous. |
And people, it's not just the beautiful new models. Even the original units are flying out of here like wildfire! Why, just yesterday, Mary Morton, over on Leisure Green Drive, answered her phone and found an eager buyer at the other end of the line. Mary had no intention of selling her condo. However, the caller offered her an outrageous amount of money and she immediately accepted the price. Well for heaven's sake, who wouldn't?
But beware, folks. We must be very careful before we allow these property flippers to destroy our neighborhoods. They are trying to scoop up our homes only to resell them at even higher prices. There are literally thousands of buyers out there anxious to move into Southport.
Resident George Hill, of Pine Hills Boulevard, tells the story of how he was harassed by a prospective buyer who managed to gain access to his second bedroom. This individual moved in while George was at Roche Bros. and put his own sheets on the bed and filled the closet and dresser with his clothes. Well, you can imagine how upset George was when he returned home and found the squatter making a pot of chicken noodle soup. George called the Mashpee police and they immediately came over for dinner. Finally, after dessert, they evicted the interloper.
One tactic that these nefarious intruders are using is the "perpetual swim" ploy. They gain access to the indoor pool and proceed to swim thousands of laps in the belief that, after 10,000 laps they are considered permanent residents, even though they have no claim to that distinction other than having swallowed at least ten gallons of pool water. They also tend to join bocce teams in order to ingratiate themselves with homeowners of Italian heritage. We cannot be too careful. We must be vigilant!
How has this incredible surge in Southport home prices come to pass while other developments all around us are experiencing the downward trend in home values? We can only speculate that our superior lifestyle and outstanding home designs have engaged the hearts of America and have generated a demand that far outstrips the supply. Everyone in America, and I mean EVERYONE, is trying to move into Southport! Who would have thought!!
But, neighbors, be strong. Don't be swayed by the outrageous offers you may receive. Please stay with us. We love you! However, if you should decide to sell, be sure to list your property with the Southport resale office. They will undoubtedly get you the best deal possible, and they include lollipops as a bonus for listing with them. Oh yes, one additional benefit of the outstanding home values here at Southport--monthly maintenance fees have been cut in half!
So ends the April 1st fairytale of life at one of the world's most active adult communities. God bless us all.
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Village Misnaming Is Corrected New Name Reflects the Majority Affiliation Group by David Kapp | |
It has long been apparent to even the most casual observer that "Southport" is a singularly inappropriate name for our village. Where, for example, is the "Northport" that we are south of? And for that matter, what port? Doesn't a port usually require a body of water larger than Martha Pond?
In an effort to address this longstanding problem, the Advisory Board of Governors recently invited residents to suggest a new name for our town within a town. This resulted in the banding together of residents who share an ethnic cultural heritage to propose a name that would represent their presence here. For example, folks whose ancestors came from Ireland promoted the name "Saint Pat's on Cape Cod," but the Board rejected that name as sounding too much like a church. Residents with an Italian background suggested "Pasta Place" on the theory that everyone loves pasta. The Board agreed that we all like pasta but rejected the name as too likely to be mistaken for a restaurant. The WASP contingent worked hard to come up with something that represented their aspirations and proposed "Harvard Yards"; however, Harvard University refused to allow its name to be used.
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Village quilters are creating a new flag with the Toyota logo to fly over the security booth. |
Finally, the affiliation group that represents the majority of villagers, i.e., ToyotaOwners, proposed a name that they said would reflect the predominant culture in the village: ToyotaTown. The Advisory Board agreed, noting that there are more Toyotas per capita here than anywhere else on Cape Cod, perhaps in all of Massachusetts.
Non-ToyotaOwners raised some objections, claiming that the name discriminates against owners of American and European cars, and they appealed to the Mashpee Fair Housing Office for relief. But when ToyotaOwners threatened to withhold their real estate taxes to achieve their ends, the Town of Mashpee, wishing to avoid a financial meltdown, approved the new name. The US Post Office agreed to rename Leisure Green Drive "Camry Parkway," and Pine Hill Boulevard is now "Avalon Avenue".
A new sign for the entrance is on order, incorporating the Toyota logo in place of the generic 'bird' that has identified the village since its inception. And the village quilters and sewers are hard at work on the creation of a new flag that will fly the Toyota symbol over the security booth. The Toyota logo will also be required on all bocce, tennis, pool and golf balls used within the village.
Revised regulations for management of ToyotaTown will be based on the maintenance text of the Toyota Manual and, in an effort to encourage all villagers to become members of the ToyotaOwners clan, the following amendments to the Manual have been adopted as the ToyotaOwners Bill of Rights.
1) ToyotaOwners no longer need parking decals and are not required to stop at the Security Booth for any reason.
2) ToyotaOwners need not fill out Resident ID Cards and may go to Florida-or wherever--any time they like without telling anyone where they are.
3) ToyotaOwners' monthly maintenance fees will be reduced by 25%. Fees will be reduced by 50% for residents who own more than one Toyota.
4) ToyotaOwners upgrading to a Phase III condo will receive a 10% discount on the sales price.
5) ToyotaOwners will receive a 25% discount on all village events that require a fee.
6) Morning golf tee times are reserved for ToyotaOwners. A free lunch will be provided at the golf club following their games, including their choice of beer, wine or sake.
7) Automobiles other than Toyotas are permitted in ToyotaTown but owners will be assessed a non-compliance tax on each car.
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ORNITHOLOGY
Birds of Southport
by Jonathan Leavitt with David Kapp
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Careful observers can find a variety of bird species at Southport. Depending on the migratory season, different birds will be sighted at the Village Center-and at local restaurants featuring early-bird specials. Test yourself; how many of these birds can you identify?
Southern Snowbird
Chief characteristic is a fear of snow and cold temperatures. Nests at Southport during the late spring and summer. Migrates to warmer climates, usually Florida, as soon as temperatures fall below 50 degrees, sometimes as early as Columbus Day and seldom later than December 1. Coloration is generally tan from time spent on golf courses.
Northern Yankeebird
Flees north to avoid seasonal crowds on the Cape, usually to coastal Maine where it seeks isolation among pine trees and rocky shores. Does not like to be exposed to sunlight, prefers foggy mornings and bitterly cold water for swimming; coloration is pale. Returns to Southport after dreaded summer people are gone, usually no later than Columbus Day, when Maine closes for the winter.
Waterfowl
Attracted to watery locations. Must be able to see water at all times and may actually get into it, but swimming is optional. In addition to its nest at Southport (always by one of the ponds), it will often fly off to a temporary nesting place by a lake or the ocean during the year, especially when Cape Cod water turns to ice.
Cowbird
Maintains two nests throughout the year, one at Southport and a second within easy migrating distance. Migratory patterns are erratic, often seems undecided about whether two nests are really necessary.
Emu
A flightless bird. Normally spends the entire year at Southport. Often found at the Village Center playing games with other emus during winter months, and playing golf or bocce in the summer. Avoids airport security and Interstate highways like the plague. Content to enjoy friends, watch television and read the newspaper and books.
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TRUE STORY
Alligator Antics
by Joy Evans
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No one seems to have a reasonable explanation for how all this came about. After all, Martha Pond is a tranquil little body of water, providing the perfect location for introspection, dreaming and just getting away from the day-to-day rat race. Long time Leisure Green resident Bertie McBride has always found her daily walk to the pond to be an extremely relaxing experience. Until yesterday.
As Bertie headed downhill toward the pond with her faithful Welsh Corgi, Trixie, by her side, she suddenly heard a loud splash and deep growl and noticed a flash of movement on the other side of the pond. She had no idea what to think. Trixie began to bark and jump and make a fuss. She broke away from her leash and dashed off for the opposite side of the pond, followed by Bertie yelling Stop! Stop! But to no avail.
When Bertie finally caught up with her little dog she grabbed her and held her tight, but Trixie continued to bark frantically and struggled to get free. Not sure what she had seen and heard, but a little frightened by the experience, Bertie quickly headed back up the path. Breathless from her exertions, she rushed home and slammed the door. After drinking a cup of tea to calm her nerves, Bertie's curiosity got the best of her and she decided to make another trip to the pond. She called her friend Margaret O'Reilly, told her what had happened and asked her to come to the pond with her. Margaret was a little nervous about the whole idea, but eventually agreed to come along.
Arming themselves with a couple pool cues, the two intrepid ladies slowly made their way down to the pond, speculating about what they might find there. "Blue heron on a fishing expedition?" mused Margaret. "Indignant swan?" ventured Bertie. "Falling tree branch?" offered Margaret. "One of the new condos sliding down the hill?" And so on. Out of ideas, they crept up to the edge of the pond. At first they didn't see anything amiss.
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Bertie snapped this picture of Albert the Alligator in Martha Pond just before he was captured and sent back to the swamps of Florida. |
All of a sudden, with a huge whoosh, a creature broke the surface of the water. Scared out of their knickers, Bertie and Margaret turned and ran for the top of the hill. Doubting what they had seen, they stopped to catch their breath. Could it be possible that Southport had an unidentified pond denizen? Our very own Mashie the Monster? But that made no sense, and no one would ever believe them. Margaret had the bright idea to return home and get a camera. Then, they would brave another excursion to the pond and photograph the intruder.
So back down the hill they went. At first it appeared that the creature was camera shy. But eventually they were able to get a clear photo and it became evident that it wasn't Mashie the Monster living in Martha Pond; it was Albert the Alligator! Yes indeed, a six-foot angry alligator had taken up residence in our little pond. But how could this happen? And more importantly, what should they do about it? After much thought, the ladies decided to seek expert help; they called the Mashpee Animal Control office and explained the situation.
To their surprise, the officer who answered the phone had no trouble believing their story and he seemed rather relaxed about their news. In fact, it was the third call he had received that week with the same complaint. Through a complex system of underground streams and rivers, clever Florida alligators had managed to find their way north to New England and were now showing up in Cape Cod ponds. The animal control officer said he already had a truck filled with the beasts but had room for just one more before shipping them back to the swamps of Florida. In no time at all, he came to Southport and, using popcorn as bait, he lured the creature out of the pond and into the moving van.
If by chance you didn't have the opportunity to take a walk by Martha Pond and see Albert the Alligator while he was in residence at Southport, you can call Bertie and ask to see her pictures.
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TRAVEL
Are We Cold Yet?
by Karlyn Curran with help from Susan Lavin
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In February 2009 my sister Susan, who unlike myself is an avid outdoorswoman, invited me to accompany her on a visit to a friend living in Tuktoyaktuk, Canada, on the shore of the Arctic Ocean above the Arctic Circle. Eager to experience something different and exciting, I said yes.
I began my adventure by flying to Denver, where Susan lives. From there we flew to Yellowknife, North West Territories, and then on to Inuvik, NWT, our first stop above the Arctic Circle. When we got off the 12-seat commuter plane we received certificates stating that we were now members of the elite Arctic Circle Travelers Club. That night in our hotel room, Susan, a Diet Coke addict, put a can of it on the windowsill between the curtain and the window to keep it cold. By morning, not only had it frozen solid, it had exploded!
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The Inuit village of Tuktoyaktukon the shore of the Actic Ocean |
The next morning we boarded a six-seat bush plane that had no bathroom. It was a good thing that Susan's Diet Coke had exploded! After flying over the frozen tundra for about three hours we spotted Tuktoyaktuk. Before we landed, the pilot circled the village to let our hosts know we had arrived so they would come pick us up. We landed on a short dirt landing strip covered with packed snow. There were no buildings--just a fully extended windsock.
Susan's friend, Natalie Oomaguk, and her husband Peter came roaring up in their beat up black pickup. There were four of us but only two seats inside the truck, so Susan and Natalie huddled together in the truck bed with our luggage even though it was 30 degrees below zero. Natalie and Peter are Inuit and have lived in Tuk (as the village is commonly known) all their lives. They are used to extreme cold, but I wasn't!
Natalie told us that there are about 900 people in Tuk; most are Inuit, living in houses provided by the Canadian government. Their home was modest but with modern amenities. Before entering the house we passed through an unheated and unlighted entryway constructed from plywood. The carcasses of animals that Peter had trapped and hunted in the summer and fall hung from hooks in the ceiling.
Once inside, the first thing we noticed was a caribou head--fur, eyes, ears, tongue and all-- thawing on a tray on the kitchen counter. He looked so cute that Susan petted him! For lunch we had caribou jerky and Eskimo ice cream (akutaq), which is whipped seal fat with a tiny bit of sugar. We had a wonderful visit during lunch, all the while being watched by the soulful eyes of the defrosting caribou head.
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Peter and his dog sled team |
After lunch we piled onto snowmobiles and went to feed Peter's sled dogs, which were chained to stakes on the ice of the Arctic Ocean. We pulled a toboggan sled loaded with frozen fish behind us. Using a hatchet, Peter chopped each fish in two and tossed the pieces to the dogs. Then he took us for a sled dog ride over the ice. He had a very strong team of dogs because he occasionally works as a guide for hunters who pay him $10,000 each to go out on the Arctic Ocean for a week and hunt polar bears. It is illegal to hunt polar bears by helicopter or snowmobile In Canada, but they may be hunted on dogsleds. We were hoping to spot a bear but they don't usually come that close to 'civilization.' This was probably a good thing because polar bears are VERY aggressive!
We had to be back to Tuk by 3:00 p.m. because it gets dark by then. The warm house felt really good! For dinner we had Arctic char, caught that day by one of Peter's friends. We had no fresh fruits or vegetables while in Tuk because it is almost impossible to get them there in winter. Everything arrives by bush plane during the winter; by barge during the summer. Susan and I slept in bunk beds in their sons' bedroom, and the boys crawled into sleeping bags on the living room floor. We went to bed after midnight and slept until almost 10:00 a.m. Villagers don't usually get out and about until 11:00 a.m. when the sun comes up.
Tuk is a base for Arctic oil and gas exploration in the Arctic Ocean. Peter had some business to attend to on one of the exploration rigs built out on the Arctic Ocean and he invited Susan and me to go along for the ride. We squeezed into the cab of his truck and drove out on the ice on the Winter Road, an ice road that exists in winter only. This year the reality series "Ice Road Truckers" on the History Channel was filmed on the road we were traveling.
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I dare you to make a stew out of me! |
Natalie stayed home to make a stew from the defrosted caribou head, adding potatoes and other root vegetables. Although dinner was delicious, Susan and I found it difficult to eat our furry friend from the day before! After dinner, Natalie gave each of us a very warm, soft and luxurious hat that she had knitted out of qiviut (musk ox) yarn.
Although we had planned to stay one more day, we were awakened early the next morning by the bush pilot, banging on our door to tell us that bad weather was approaching; we needed to get out or be stranded there for a week. We hurriedly packed, drove to the landing strip and said our good-byes to Natalie and Peter. We made it out just in time!
Does anybody honestly think that I would ever take such a trip? APRIL FOOL!
However, much of this story is true or based on truth. Very little is completely imagined. My sister Susan, who before retirement was regional director of the Denver Census Office, was invited by Statistics Canada to take part in an exchange program to help take the Canadian Census in Tuktoyaktuk and three smaller native communities on the Arctic Ocean. She spent about ten days above the Arctic Circle in February 2002. The temperature was about 30 degrees below zero, her Diet Coke did freeze and explode on the hotel's windowsill and she did pet a defrosting caribou head. Susan considers this trip to be one of the highlights of her career.
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