Dan Jacques was born in 1942 and spent his early years in a South Boston project.

As a young boy he was the leader of the Junior Skeletons,  

a path to the older Skeletons Gang in South Boston.  

This is his story.

Dan Jacques

My family moved to South Weymouth when I was 11. By the time I had grown up, my friends were or had been in reform school; if we hadn't moved I probably would have been there, too. In Weymouth, we lived in a typical suburban neighborhood. I played junior varsity baseball and basketball in high school and worked part time at Sears through high school.

In 1966 at the height of the Viet Nam war, my friend Doug and I went for our armed services physicals. We planned to enter different branches but within a month were in the same room, being inducted into the Naval Air Force. We are still good friends.

I met my wife, Susan Carol Burns, when we both worked at Sears. I asked her out three times but she worked weekends, so I thought 'three strikes and you're out.' Then one day she invited me to her parents' 25th anniversary party. Later, I learned that she had cancelled her date with another guy to go with me. We married in my last year in the service and are still happily married 45 years later. Our son Scott has a daughter, and our daughter Laurie has four sons, all hockey players. I enjoy doing most of the cooking, and Susan works as a concierge at Willowbend; she really enjoys meeting and working with the patrons, occasionally, celebrities. One time Bobby Orr arrived. We're both big Bruins fans so she got a bit flustered. Bobby Orr!

After the service I went back to work at Sears. I started out addressing envelopes, did every job in the place, and eventually became the electronics buyer and finally store manager. It was a good place to work with lots of competition and camaraderie. We had Steak and Bean Suppers after some competitions; winners ate steak, losers ate beans.

Being a buyer is a challenging job; everything hinges on your decisions. When 'boom box' radios were shrinking due to improvements in electronics, it was dangerous to get caught with too many large units when the next, smaller unit came out. Conversely, if you didn't have enough large units to meet demand, you lost business. The year before I became electronics buyer, the store had lost more than two million dollars in this product area. After two and a half years as the buyer, I reduced this loss to less than one million dollars; it was a feather in my cap.

Judgment and intuition mattered. We had a portable helmet radio with NFL logos. The Dallas Cowboys radio was an excellent seller because the Cowboys won a lot. One year the Miami Dolphins won the championship and the higher-ups thought we should stock a lot of Dolphins' helmets; I thought otherwise and committed to a large number of Cowboys' helmets. In the end, Cowboys radios continued to sell while the Dolphins sat on the shelf. Another boost for my career as a buyer.

Dan and Susan Jacques have been married for 45 years. "Susan has taken me kicking and screaming to the best times of my life," he says.

Much of the success of the retail year is tied to the last quarter due to the holiday shopping season. At that time you had better be right with your inventory, but your decisions may have to be made in June. This results in an ongoing battle with the manufacturer who has his own timelines and goals. He'll promise you anything, but if he's trying to please a new customer he'll sometimes make you wait for your order. He can do desperate things.

Once, a fellow buyer wasn't getting his tennis clothes order delivered despite several calls. Finally he went to the manufacturer and refused to leave until he saw his order shipped. The manufacturer agreed to do the work immediately. While he waited, the buyer wandered into a sewing area where he saw labels being torn out of tennis garb. He asked a worker what was going on and was told that they lacked sufficient size 10s, so they were relabeling size 12 clothes with size 10 labels. When your wife complains about her sizes not seeming right, she may be on to something.

I became store manager. It was god-like! My every word was attended to. But it was difficult and carried a lot of responsibility without the challenge of being a buyer. It was 80 hours a week; I did it for several years and retired from Sears after 23 years.

But I was still young, so I went into the real estate business. In the market crash of the 80s I found that instead of buying low and selling high, I had bought high and was selling low. So I quit the real estate business and became a court reporter for the Massachusetts Superior Court as an independent contractor.

I got paid for being present in court, but my income was based largely on a fee-per-page for transcripts delivered. I used a two-track tape recorder; one track recorded the proceedings and I exactly repeated what I heard on the second. I recorded by day and then went home and typed at night. Since it takes about six hours of transcription for one of recording, I was always behind. I once hired five people to type and sent them tapes from the courtroom every half hour to facilitate their work.

I did the first six episodes of the 'Nanny' case (shaken baby syndrome) and several episodes of John Salvi's trial (murder of two abortion workers). Later, in prison, Salvi was found dead with a plastic bag over his head. It was ruled suicide. On one occasion, a man was on trial for a killing that would lead to a mandatory life sentence if he were to be convicted. The jailers were warned not to let him have any pens or pencils. He was adjudged guilty and tried to kill himself right there in the court room by puncturing an artery in his neck with a pen. It took two state troopers and two court officers to get him down and handcuff him.

Defendants can do stupid things. One kid was on trial for selling cocaine. He came to court the first day with an 8-Ball, the street symbol for a bag of cocaine, on his t-shirt. I suggested to his lawyer that a different shirt would be advisable. It is always better to request a jury trial for a criminal case; juries may be influenced by emotion. If you have a civil case where you think the law is on your side, you want the trial to be heard by a judge with no jury; a judge usually sticks to the letter of the law. Still, I saw judges doing crossword puzzles and falling asleep. News reporters do not always get their stories straight. They often imply lurid things that are never stated in court. I retired from reporting after 20 years on the job.  

Four of the five Jacques grandchildren--Kaila, Kevin, Nolan, and Cameron-- give the family car the "white sock treatment.

Susan and I first looked at Southport as a home for her parents but it was too expensive for them ($185/month at the time!). Later we looked for ourselves and moved here in 2004. Our location on Driver Lane is quiet with a lovely forest view, which I could sit and watch for the rest of my life. Susan has taken me kicking and screaming to the best times of my life. She's been on the Social Committee and is active on the Ladies Tea Committee and Bingo. We both volunteer at the American Legion Post and at Southport. I recently did U.S. Census work. I like to keep my brain working with new challenges; give me a parachute and I'll jump. Now, golf is my major challenge. We love it here.

Salt as we know it is bad for us. 

The sea version isn't much better

but you gotta love Madison Avenue.

Good-bye Mortons,

You're so old school.

Sugar, once scorned,

Is now the preferred sweetener

to high fructose corn syrup. 

I was glad when I read the small print

and saw that my cereal

has real cane sugar! 

So sugar is a health food now? 

Cool! 

And then there's butter and its substitutes;

I-Can't-Believe-It's-Not -Butter,

stick margarine,

gelled glub-in-a-tub.

Oh Fabio, save me from trans-fatty acids!

I'll take a pat of just plain butter please.

Oleo? Crisco?

Omega-3? Omega-6?

What?  

They're essential fatty acids,

the good kind?

Pam, Spam, no thank you ma'am,

I want olive oil,

triple pressed and extra, extra virgin.

My arteries say aahhh!

Seafood? Watch the mercury!

Red meat? Good protein source

but was the cow grass fed

and antibiotic free?

Did the chicken get to roam

and interact with other chickens

or was it caged and injected

and fed genetically modified feed?

I'm hiding under my afghan

with a pint of  Ben and Jerry's.

What will be will be. 

Non Compos Mendes   

by Bob Mendes    

•  Recently I've had a couple of people ask me the meaning of Non Compos Mendes. For those few who don't speak fluent Latin, I'll re-explain what I explained in my first column (which obviously no one read). In English, non compos mentis translates to "an unsound mind," or idiomatically, "nonsense." It's just a play on words as well as an obvious truth.    
• Still haven't gotten to my column on procrastination. I will. Be patient with me. 
• I don't trust "Top Ten" lists or any other even-numbered list published in a newspaper. I assume the writer has a couple of legitimate points, but then pads the rest of the list to get to ten.   
• Believe it or not, "Transition" isn't that far away. From what we're being told, it should take place near the end of next year. It's going to be very interesting to be involved in the process. We have a Homeowners Transition Committee in place, which was elected a couple of years ago. They've been meeting regularly since then and will soon play a vital role in the future success of Southport and will need your full support as we get closer to transition. (Disclosure: My wife, Bette, is a member of this committee.) 
• My friend Joe O'Connor points out that Southport has a new sign that reads, "This Way Out." Where, he wonders, is its counterpart directing, "This Way In?" Joe likes balance.    
• Have you ever wondered about Q-tips? What does the "Q" stand for? Who designed them? Why? How are they made? I was looking at one the other day and got curious. Leo Gerstenzang invented them in the 1920s after he noticed his wife wrap cotton around a toothpick and swab their baby's ears. He was afraid the toothpick might splinter and cause problems, so he made up a quantity using a polished wood less likely to splinter. His original name for them was--get this--Baby Gays. Now they're made with a plastic shaft with a cushion under the swab by machines that turn out thousands per minute. The computer is a wonderful gadget and so are today's miracle drugs, but if you think about it, the Q-tip ain't bad either.    
• I've never seen a primary where all the participants seem to hate each other as much as these Republicans do.   
• Speaking of politics, my first political memory is of the McCarthy era. I remember thinking then that Senator McCarthy was the most dangerous man in America and over my life I've added many names to that list. My latest addition is Grover Norquist.    
• Even more on politics: Just what is our point in Afghanistan? As I understand it, we got involved because the Bush Administration believed that country was harboring Osama Bin Laden and others of the Al Quaeda persuasion. Well, we killed Osama, routed the others, weakened the organization to the point where we're told it's practically impotent, yet we're still involved in that country. My questions to our current President: How will you know when you've won the war? What are your objectives? What price victory?    
• My latest unsung hero is David Kapp who edits and puts out this unsightly, unnecessary e-publication monthly. I know what he'll say when he reads this: "Thanks for sucking up."  

Habitat for Humanity

Building Affordable Houses for Deserving Families  

Millard and Linda Fuller founded Habitat for Humanity International in 1976 with the conviction that every man, woman and child should have a decent, safe and affordable place to live. Volunteers and supporters from all backgrounds help build homes for people in need, regardless of their race or religion. Homeowners and volunteers build under trained supervision. Habitat houses are for low-income families who "need a hand up, not a hand out." To date, Habitat for Humanity has built more than 400,000 houses, sheltering more than two million people worldwide. Cape Cod Habitat has built 11 houses in Mashpee with two more scheduled for 2012.

After Hurricane Andrew, Betsy and I began to volunteer with Habitat for Humanity for four months every winter in various locations throughout the southeastern states. We started in Homestead, Florida and 12 years later we worked on our last Habitat build in Jackson, Mississippi. In between we built homes with some wonderful people, both Habitat volunteers from all over the country and future Habitat homeowners. Habitat requires all prospective homeowners to qualify by working 500 hours (called "sweat equity") helping to build their house or some other Habitat family's home.

We joined the "RV Care-A-Vanners," a group of several thousand Habitat volunteers from the U.S. and Canada who own motor homes or travel trailers. Our rig was a 28' fifth wheel trailer pulled by a Ford 250 heavy duty diesel pickup truck. Every quarter, Habitat headquarters e-mailed each of us the names of Habitat affiliates needing volunteers, listed by date and location. Each year we signed up for about eight builds, camping with other volunteers for two weeks at a time as we assisted the local Habitat affiliate to build affordable homes for deserving families. We usually scheduled a week between projects to rest up and relocate to our next build. During each build we worked with a different group of volunteers, some of whom had become very good friends from working together with us on previous builds. We still maintain contact with couples from Maine, New Jersey, North Carolina and Michigan.

Initially we stored our trailer near our home in Duxbury so we could do Habitat builds in the summer in places like Burlington, Vermont; Bozeman, Montana; Darlington, North Carolina and Indianapolis, Indiana. In our 12 years of working with HFH we worked on over 100 Habitat homes and traveled through or camped in every state except Kansas.  

Men and women work side by side on Habitat projects. Here, Betsy instructs Frank in the finer points of installing vinyl siding.

One of the great benefits of volunteering with Habitat is learning how to do things you have never done before. Each project started with all of us, men and women, working together to frame the exterior and interior walls and sheathing of the the house. Then we had the opportunity to work with the site supervisor or an experienced volunteer to learn how to insulate, run electrical wiring, hang and "mud" drywall, install windows, hang doors, tile floors, install kitchen cabinets and counters, paint, etc.

Betsy learned how to install vinyl siding on our first build and later taught me, after I had finished working on the roof. The site supervisor in Bozeman taught Betsy how to run the Bobcat to clear the work site. All of the male volunteers were jealous because we thought a Bobcat was a "big boy's toy," not something a "girl" could learn how to do!

We had several opportunities to participate in a "Blitz Build," which means you are part of a team assigned to construct one of several houses being built simultaneously in one week. Our first one was a "Jimmy Carter Blitz Build" in Americus, Geogia where we built 42 homes in a week! As has become their tradition, Jimmy and Rosalyn installed a door or window in every house, giving all the volunteers an opportunity to meet them. (We frequently volunteered at Koinonia Farm in Americus and always attended Jimmy's church in Plains where he taught the Bible lesson to several hundred people. Habitat volunteers always had preferred seating.)

Indianapolis, the site of the 25th Habitat Anniversary Blitz Build in September 2001, was a memorable build for us because the Twin Towers were destroyed during that week. Our final blitz build, in Jackson, was the first annual project in which volunteers from Cape Cod Habitat participated. Kevin Garnett, who was still playing with the Timberwolves, donated several hundred thousand dollars to clear the street of substandard houses so we could replace them with 16 new homes. Half way through the build he flew down to greet the new Habitat homeowners and told them that he had grown up in the same kind of substandard house we were replacing. Oprah Winfrey generously furnished each of the houses, and Whirlpool Corporation donated an appliance to each family.

While living in Duxbury we organized an affiliate of South Shore Habitat for Humanity and worked on the first Duxbury Habitat house before we moved to Southport. After coming to the Cape, Betsy volunteered on the committee that provides lunches at the work site and I finally learned how to install Pergo flooring while working on one of the Habitat houses in Hyannis. After volunteering on three of the 11 Habitat houses that have been built in Mashpee, we recognized that age has finally caught up with us and we now support Habitat by volunteering to do things other than swing a hammer.

The Cape Cod Habitat affiliate has opened a "ReStore" to raise funds to build more affordable houses each year. Several Southport residents have already had Habitat come to their homes to pick up reusable kitchen cabinets, hand and power tools, lighting fixtures, and furniture rather than toss them in the trash or pay to have someone haul them to the dump. I encourage you to do the same by calling 508-394-6400 or by going online to habitatcapecod.org/restore to arrange a pick up of donated items. You will receive a tax deductible receipt for all donated items, but more importantly you will help a family become the proud owners of a well built affordable Habitat home.

In the spring of 1992 my late husband, Austin, and I had been in the British Isles for two weeks and had traveled in our rental car to all of the places on our list: Oxford, Avon, the Lake District, Scotland and London. Our flight back to Boston was still two days off.

Not wanting to waste two precious days, we consulted a map and decided to head for Reading for the following (not so good) reasons: 1) neither of us had been there on previous trips; 2) it was near Heathrow Airport; and 3) we lived near Reading, Massachusetts. It seemed like a good plan at the moment.

We arrived in Reading in the early afternoon to find a grim, ugly industrial city that proved to be neither inviting nor interesting. Consulting our map, we quickly came up with Plan B. Not far from Reading was the town of Henley on the Thames River, the home of the famous Henley Regatta. Austin brightened at the mention of Henley, for his oldest son, Jon, had crewed at Henley while he was a student at Mt. Hermon Prep in western Massachusetts. Our spirits were buoyed and off we went with great optimism.

We arrived in Henley at about 4:00 p.m. and, as was our custom, located the local tourist office where we could obtain help in securing a cozy B&B. Unfortunately, the office was about to close for the day. The woman who was locking up was kind enough to provide us with a booklet that listed B&B's in the local area. This was before the advent of cell phones so we just drove to the first one on the list. The proprietress met us with the bad news that she had no vacancy. She kindly invited us in and offered to call a number of the others on our list, with the same dismal result.

Undaunted, we returned to the center of Henley and located a small hotel. We were in luck; there was one room available. I asked to see the room and we were led up two flights of stairs and then to a narrow, winding staircase that took us even higher to a sort of attic that contained a very small, very plain room. The last flight of stairs was so narrow that it would have been impossible for us to carry our large suitcases to the room. We hurriedly discussed the situation and told the proprietor that we would "think about it."

It was nearly 5:00 o'clock by now, and we had not found a suitable place to spend the night. Once again I perused the listing of B&Bs, hoping that we had missed a listing. This time I noticed a small pink piece of paper that had been placed in the booklet. It advertised accommodations available in a stable. "I do not want to sleep in a stable," Austin said. "Well," I replied, "if a stable was good enough for Mary, Joseph and Jesus, it should be good enough for us." With no option other than the hotel, he agreed to at least check it out.

We set off, following the driving directions on the pink paper. We were told to watch for a white iron fence that bordered the property. Although we checked the mileage assiduously, we could not find the white fence. We retraced our route twice and finally noticed a property bordered by a black iron fence. We parked the car along the road and entered a courtyard surrounded by three large stone buildings. There was no evidence that any of them were inhabited. We knocked on doors and called out, but these measures did not produce a reply.

Finally, I spied a small wooden doorway in a stone wall. We opened it and walked into an utterly charming landscape. To our left was a stately home set upon the bank of a small canal. Sitting serenely in the canal was a bright red and white antique houseboat. Across the canal and directly ahead was another small building on the bank of the Thames.

"Oh well," I thought, "nothing ventured, nothing gained." We crossed the canal on a narrow footbridge and knocked on the door of the small building. A woman responded to our knock and we inquired about the room in the stable. She ushered us into her home, a converted boathouse situated riverside. She told us the stable was available and took us back to the courtyard and into the former stable, which had been converted to a wonderful accommodation with a large living room, kitchen, bedroom, bath and loft. We had the entire building to ourselves. It was perfect!

The following morning, at breakfast in the boathouse overlooking the Thames, our hosts explained that they had once owned the stately home on the canal. As they approached retirement age they decided to sell the large house and to convert their boathouse into a cottage (a most charming cottage, I might add) for themselves. They retained ownership of the stable, which they converted to a guesthouse.

When I told them about our difficulty finding the location with the white iron fence, Mrs. Kuypers confessed that it had recently been painted black and they had neglected to update the description in the tourist office list.

Our hosts were extremely accommodating and offered to loan us guidebooks and to prepare a picnic lunch. They also suggested that we walk along the riverbank about a quarter of a mile to a spot where we could observe the workings of a lock as boats passed up and down the river. The man who operated the lock was pleased to have visitors from the U.S. and seemed to enjoy giving us a quick course on the operation of locks. Our two days in Henley passed all too quickly and we were off to Heathrow. Plan B proved to be a most fitting conclusion to a wonderful, memorable vacation in Great Britain.

Darcy lives with John & Elizabeth Lynch.

There were so many dogs just like me, left to fend for themselves now that summer was over. I missed my family and didn't know what I had done that caused them to abandon me. It was starting to get cold and food was harder to find. But then this nice lady came along, put me in a truck and took me to a shelter where I met a lot of other dogs.

It's noisy at the shelter, but I'm fed and walked and well cared for. It's not home but it's way better than the street. Every day, a man walks by our cages and we're all happy to see him. One day, he opens the cage next to me and takes my best buddy. I never see my friend again. This goes on day after day and suddenly it hits me: I've been here 10 days; my days are numbered. I'll be taking that long, last walk tomorrow!

Wait a minute! The next day, I'm brought out to meet a couple that wants to adopt me. I'm overjoyed! I jump around and try to lick every part of the lady's face. I sit quietly when the man puts me on his lap. I'm trying to be so good! But then they leave without me. I'm crushed. I'm happy to back with my buddies but new dogs keep coming and going. I just want to go home! 

I didn't know it at the time, but the couple wanted me after all. I'm saved! They came back and took me to my forever home in Southport. I'm in heaven. When I'm out walking, people stop and tell me what a handsome dog I am. I went to some classes with other dogs and learned to sit, stay and come (more or less). I graduated at the bottom of the class, but hey, someone has to be at the bottom! 

I have a warm crate to sleep in at night and lots of toys to play with. I'm a little spoiled and my "aunt" calls me "His Royal Highness." I have a fondness for vanilla soft-serve ice cream and anything plastic. I have new people friends: Betty gave me a blanket for my crate and an air horn to protect me from the coyotes. Bob gave us a flashlight and pepper spray. I'm a little dog and have often been referred to as "coyote bait," so my friends are trying to keep me safe.

It's a good life, but I can't help thinking about my buddies at the shelter. I hope they get to find a warm, loving home soon.