Bill & Ellen Enright with Flossie

Bill Enright was born in Manhattan, but his family moved to Avon, Massachusetts when he was two. He attended Avon public schools and Braintree's Thayer Academy and went on to graduate from Boston University and Suffolk University Law School. As a senior at Thayer, Bill was an All New England Private School center halfback in soccer, an undefeated Independent League wrestling champion and finished the baseball season with a .495 batting average and 36 stolen bases. 

Bill's father grew up in a poor family in East St. Louis and would sometimes talk about the times when he did not have enough to eat. Despite this challenging beginning, he believed that America was the greatest country that ever existed. The most meaningful years of his father's life, even in view of the success he later achieved in business, were those he spent in the US Navy during World War II.

Bill's mother was raised in an immigrant Jewish family that fled the Russian revolution around 1917, arriving in this country with little more than the clothes on their backs. They too believed in America as the land of opportunity, viewing hard work and education as the keys to success. Bill's mother drove her children to succeed and appears to have accomplished her goal: his brothers include a financial planner, an retired Navy man who is now an instructor in computer operating systems, and another with a PhD in mathematics and computer science who works for a French arbitrage firm.  

Bill has practiced law for 30 years and continues to work for a firm in Hyannis.

Fresh out of college in the early 1970s, Bill worked as a licensed electrician. He was a deliveryman for a year or two (and still maintains his proud membership in the Teamsters just in case) before reverting to work as an electrician installing security systems. In 1979, he decided to attend law school and shortly after passing his bar exams in 1982, he joined the Air Force as an attorney. He served on active duty in California for four-plus years before deciding to enter private practice as a lawyer on Cape Cod. He's had many business relationships in his 30 years as a lawyer and has been associated with the Law Offices of John C. Manoog in Hyannis for the last seven years. He concentrates on civil law, particularly personal injury law, and on criminal law where, he quips, he represents the "misguided and misunderstood."

In deciding not to pursue a career in the Air Force, however, Bill did not leave the military altogether. Shortly after leaving active service in 1987, he joined the Massachusetts Air National Guard, where he continued to serve for 22 years, retiring as a full colonel. He was recalled to active duty following the attacks of September 11, 2001 and served an additional 13 months in defense of his country. Those months, he says, were the most meaningful part of his service.

Bill's wife Ellen was born and raised in Brockton, which she remembers as a wonderful and beautiful city. "I rode my bike everywhere and must have put a million miles on it," she says. Her father was a well-known podiatrist in town, and she remembers walking down Main Street with him and hearing people greet him warmly with, "Hi Doc!" Her father was a compassionate man, often accepting wine, fish or other fare as compensation for his services. "My mother was beautiful, outgoing and loved to entertain or be entertained," Ellen says, "As a young woman, she was named Miss Roxbury."

Ellen was active in high school sports and enjoyed art. She went to UMass Amherst as an undergraduate and then to Massachusetts College of Art, where she earned an MFA. Ellen taught art for ten years in the Norton schools but lost that position in 1978 through a reduction in force. She took a job in a personnel placement agency and ended up placing herself in good job with Leading Edge, a computer products company. When she and Bill moved to California with the Air Force in 1982, Ellen attended school to learn how to be an officer's wife. But she also went to work for Sprint and eventually became western regional manager of their long distance services. After 20 years in private business, Ellen opened an art and antiques business and operated it successfully for a number of years.  

It's an Enright tradition to cook dinner together in New Year's Eve. And the menu must always be a new one.

Ellen and Bill met in February 1981 at a poker game in Stoughton and they married in November of the same year. While Bill may have won some of her money that first night, Ellen won Bill. "He's the only man I ever asked out," she says with a big smile on her face. It's been more than 30 years now and they both still feel like winners. They continue to enjoy one another's company and love to cruise and vacation together, hike, play golf and, occasionally, play poker or go to a casino. 

The Enrights have enjoyed an annual tradition ever since they met: cooking together on New Year's Eve. But it's not just cooking anything; it has to be something they have never cooked before. Over the years they have cooked such things as Lobster Thermidor, Asian food and foods native to many other countries. Each year it becomes harder to find something new to cook, but they spend a lot of time working on their menu and they'll come up with a great meal for New Year's Eve 2012.

Ellen and Bill share their home with Flossie. They've rescued many cats over the years, but Flossie is special cat. She always seems to have a smile on her face, loves her home and her family and, if you are a guest in the home, you are her friend as well.

Both Bill and Ellen participate in Southport activities. He plays pool, chess and poker, while she plays golf, mah jong, bocce and poker. They attend many Southport events and have become friends with many of their neighbors. Bill moved to Southport with some trepidation but he now says, "It's nice not having to mow a lawn or shovel snow and we've made some wonderful new friends." And Ellen nods in agreement and adds, "It's a great place to live."  

________________________________________________________________________ 

POETRY 

I've never considered August to be a real month,

not in the sense of June or July

or for that matter, December. 

August was always a gateway month,

the time of year

when daylight visibly disappeared

at a good clip each evening.

As a child, there was the anticipation

of an upcoming new school year,

seeing old friends and making new ones.

It was time to go shopping

for scratchy wool clothes

and confining shoes. 

August was the good-bye month;

so long, windows opened to the sounds

and smells of summer,

see ya, Keds and  drippy Creamsicles,

good-bye, dodge ball,

and staying out 'til the street lights came on.

Every school-aged child knew

that the real start of the year

was the first day of school,

a fresh new beginning,

once the hanger-on, dog days

lumbered on by.

August's demise brought structure

to my young life

whether I wanted it or not.

I'm older now, lots older.

But I find myself thinking

of courses I could take,

changes of direction I could go in.

And once again,

as it happens every year,

I'm torn between the old and the new

as August fades into September.

I was at the Advisory Board meeting the night my friend Peter LeBlanc proposed a memorial at Southport for veterans killed in military action. I even voiced my opinion saying: I'm neither for nor against it, but if it becomes a reality I think it should be built with private funds rather than association money. I'm happy to see that the current proposal is in agreement with that view.

Since the Advisory Board meeting, I've continued to think about the proposed memorial and, although mine may be an unpopular view, I don't think Southport is the proper venue for such a project.

I am not a veteran but I absolutely consider myself a patriot. I have great pride in my country and deep respect for those who have given their lives to defend it. So why do I feel the way I do? These are my thoughts.

Southport has no standing for such a memorial. We are not a home for veterans, nor are we affiliated with any veterans' association, nor in any way associated or allied with any branch of the military. We are just a residential community, a neighborhood like any other.

Would hosting a memorial be a "nice thing to do?" Perhaps, but if we are to have a memorial for those killed in wars, would we also consider having a memorial for those who died in the Holocaust or the tragedy of 9/11? Or for the firefighters and police who protect us at the risk of their lives?

I honor the ultimate sacrifice made by those who have died to defend our freedoms, but

there are many memorials for veterans in many nearby locations. One such memorial exists just a little over a mile away at the Mashpee Rotary. Another, much more accessible memorial is sited in the Community Park across the street from the Mashpee Town Hall. The Veteran's Garden there is a lovely area to visit, a place to reflect and to get in touch with your own thoughts and feelings. We even have the ultimate veterans' memorial about 20 minutes away: the National Military Cemetery in Bourne.

More can be less. Given the number of memorials in our immediate vicinity I can't help but feel that if we add another veterans' memorial to those already existing, it would tend to minimize the impact of all memorials and trivialize their very concept. Again, I have the deepest respect and even a sense of reverence for those who have made the ultimate sacrifice. I just don't think Southport is the proper venue for a manifestation of these feelings.

Rosann Salvaggio moved to Southport from Allentown, Pennsylvania in February, but she is no stranger to the charms of Cape Cod. She had visited her good friend Lorraine Burgoyne at Southport several times; now they are next-door neighbors on Portside Drive, as well as friends and neighbors in Fort Myers, Florida. Rosann grew up on the highest mountain in the Poconos. Her late husband Ed was a mechanical engineer for Dupont, and his career took them from Pennsylvania to Texas, then to Delaware and back to Texas. Now she is excited to be living near the seashore.

Rosann's career is centered in education. She began as an elementary school teacher and later became a principal. Currently, she is director of school programs for Computer Aid Inc., a global tech company headquartered in Allentown. Twelve years ago, Rosann was charged with creating an education/business partnership that would revolutionize the way information is delivered to students, particularly those at, or below, the poverty level. Finding the right programs, assessing the needs of students, locating the right schools and developing partnerships with these schools were some of her challenges.

Over the years, Rosann has helped to build a learning culture in troubled schools and to turn them around. Starting with three charter schools and expanding to ten over the years, these schools now partner with Lehigh University, Penn State and DeSales University, using technology to enhance the educational experience. Rosann is able to accomplish most of her work using her computer, coupled with frequent trips to Pennsylvania where she mixes business with visits to family and friends.

Newly Knighted: Sir Alfred Benjamin

Southport resident Al Benjamin, on opening his mailbox a couple weeks ago, was delighted to find something considerably more interesting than bills and junk mail. A letter from the French Ambassador informed him that he had been appointed a Chevalier (Knight) of the French Legion of Honor for helping to liberate France in World War II.  

Al was a 19-year-old teenager from Dorchester when he enlisted as an aviation cadet in the Army Air Corps in 1942. After extensive training he was commissioned in April 1944 and assigned to duty as a navigator for a B-17, flying daytime bombing missions out of southern England. The targets were usually munitions and industrial targets, most often in Germany.

The B-17 a high-flying (35,000'), long-range bomber, earned a reputation as the "Flying Fortress," for its ability to defend itself and return to base despite extensive battle damage. But the crews were well aware that on any given mission some planes might not return. As a navigator, Al had observed the locations where flak could be expected and had noted these on a chart so that they could be avoided. That was working well until his 13th mission, when flak damaged two of the plane's four engines.

The aircraft could have made it back to England on the two remaining engines but, at about 14,000', the third engine quit, and the crew jettisoned everything that wasn't bolted down. It wasn't enough. Then, the fourth engine began to fail; the Flying Fortress was going down and the pilot gave the order to jump at 10,000'. Al had never jumped from a plane before, so his first reaction was to hesitate. But given the other option and with a little nudge from a fellow crewmember, he stepped out into thin air.

Al's parachute was smaller than those of the other men since it had been designed to fit into the very tight space he had occupied as navigator in the B-17. So, falling at about 1,000' per minute, he arrived in Belgium before the rest of the crew and was immediately surrounded by men with machine guns. He was not wearing a uniform or other identifying insignia, but rather specially designed thermal clothing that looked a bit like an "electric blanket." And the heavy-duty fur galoshes that he had needed to keep his feet warm had disappeared on the way down.

His greeters turned out to be Belgian freedom fighters. Al was injured but he used his high school French to explain the situation as best he could. The Belgians hid him in a farmhouse and later took him to a Catholic hospital. Grateful local residents came to shake his hand and thank him for his part in helping to defeat Nazi Germany. No American troops showed up to retrieve the crew, all of whom survived the jump, so a nurse gave them money to take a streetcar to Charleroi, where they found the American Army HQ. From there, they were evacuated to Paris and eventually returned to England and resumed their missions.

So, nearly 70 years later, how is it that the French Government is just now getting around to thanking Al for his service? It turns out that he told his story to a member of the American Legion-a man he met while shopping in Florida last winter. Apparently the man put some wheels into motion, and voila! Al will now add a new honor to the decorations already earned for his service in World War II (including the Purple Heart and a number of Air Medals).  

Fellow Chevalier of the Legion of Honor "Lucky Lindy"

The French Legion of Honor was established by Napoleon Bonaparte in 1802 to "acknowledge services rendered to France by persons of exceptional merit," according to the French ambassador's letter. Many people from many walks of life have been so honored over the centuries, but Al was especially pleased to note that fellow airman Charles Lindbergh, "Lucky Lindy," is also enrolled in the Legion of Honor. I think we can agree that, in 1944, Al was pretty lucky, too.

As we wrapped up our conversation, I asked Al how he felt about his new honor. "Please call me Sir Alfred," he said. Congratulations Sir Alfred, and thanks once again for your service to the country. 

The drive up the hill was inspiring,

a country road nestled inside

a wooded landscape,

it was a bright, crisp fall day

with golden oaks and burning elms

exploding all around,

and I so lost in thought                            

as we approached the brick infirmary building.

It stood majestically on the hill,

its clock tower a sentinel

overlooking the quiet suburbs below.

Keeping time since 1930

it serves as a reminder of another era

guarding the many secrets and stories

I know lay hushed inside.

The tower, a stately structure,

a commanding force of its own

beckoned me,

and the longer I gazed upon it

the more I felt removed from the present;

suddenly I could hear feet shuffling

from room to room,

and smell the harsh scent of antiseptic,

I could almost reach out

and touch the starched linen.  

I heard voices talking in low whispers;

the sound of the sick,

my own mother bedded down

inside one of those rooms.

But I could only imagine

her young, sickly form,

recalling stories and notes

from her daily journals.  

As I walked along the perimeter  

                      glimpsing the back

I spotted the rusty remains of the tunnel

that once connected the main buildings.

Grass grows through the cracks now

of the once meticulously maintained courtyard,

and the screened in porches

where patients often sat out in the fresh air

hoping for a cure,

are crumbling from neglect.

I walked away,

feeling the past mingle with the present

as those voices drifted out

over the boundaries of time,

for no amount of brick and mortar

can quiet the lingering spirits

still roaming the halls of this forgotten era,  

where a chain link fence

is all that separates the timelines;

keeping trespassers out

and ghosts within.

The View

Picture yourself sitting here overlooking Eel Pond and enjoying the view of boats docked and waiting to sail off to Martha's Vineyard, Nantucket or wherever. The Phantom took these pictures from the Captain Kidd restaurant in Woods Hole where the drinks are always satisfying and the food is great. Everything is served quickly by very friendly staff. What a perfect setting. Captain Kidd offers all the great seafood favorites, daily specials, and their onion rings may be the best on the Cape.

We found Captain Kidd on one of those perfect summer afternoons when everything was calm and the temperature was about 75 degrees. Hyannis is our usual destination

The Meal

because we know it so well, and sitting at the

water's edge always brought us toBaxter's or Tugboats restaurants. I'll have to admit, though, that this spot is even better if you want to enjoy our relaxing Cape Cod atmosphere.

The Phantom and his guest both ordered the lobster special, served "lazyman's" style with most of the splitting already done by the chef. My wife is the lobster expert and she enjoyed every bite, down to the smallest claw. I usually enjoy lobster only when I'm sitting at the water's edge, so this was the perfect day to depart from my usual steak, hamburger or fried fish. I'm glad I did.                                                                         

The Place

The Captain Kidd Restaurant and Bar is

located on Water Street in Woods Hole. The price range for entrees is $12 to $18. Dinner

is served nightly from 5:00 - 11:00 pm (June thru Labor Day, so get there soon). There are three menus to choose from: Tavern Dinner menu, Waterfront Dinning Room menu, and the Tavern Lunch menu. Parking just down the street is only $3 with no time limit, so relax, stay for a second drink and enjoy the ever-changing view as boats return from the Islands, fishing for stripers or blues, or from an afternoon cruise out of Falmouth Harbor.