Where There is Life, There is Hope.

I was born and raised in Atlantic City, New Jersey. It was a wonderful place to grow up. It was small (about 14,000 residents) and everyone knew everyone else. In the summer, there were lots of jobs for young people because it was a tourist town and it seemed everyone needed someone to sell newspapers, hand out towels at the hotel pools and cook hamburgers in any one of the myriad of hamburger joints on the boardwalk.

When I graduated from high school in 1962 in a class of about 560, we discovered there were very few full time jobs available and that the town was slowly dying. It had the highest suicide and alcoholism rate per capita in the country. So, 90% of the graduates from the Atlantic City High School class of 1962 left to seek their fortunes elsewhere.

When gambling came in 1978, the town was revitalized. There were lots of jobs and staggering inflation. My late mother's $200 apartment became $600 in one year and this 7 mile long island I loved as a child became much like a landing strip for an alien culture. Of course, Thoreau was right, you can't go home again. But who was I to curse progress because my childhood playground had been despoiled?

They don't euthanize towns.

Prior to gambling, Atlantic City tried some very creative schemes to restore itself. They provided hotel guests with rain insurance that reimbursed them if it rained during the weekend they were there. They put together $3 million dollars to bring the 1964 Democratic National Convention there. All they got for their money were a bunch of filler reports from the network newspeople in attendance about what a dump the once great resort had become.

When my wife Ellen and I began courting in the late 80's, she brought me out here to Riverhead where, in 1978, she had purchased a second home. One whiff of the salt air and I was home to stay. When we married in 1990, we decided to retire here and renovated the house and here we are. It's just like Atlantic City except I think the alcoholism and suicide rates are lower. In the past 12 years since we have lived here full time, I have witnessed the complaints, schemes and mudslinging about the town that has become the town pastime. It's like ice fishing in Minnesota or dwarf bowling wherever they do that. But, like shaking your fist at the sky imploring God to do something about your crappy life, it does no good.

Euthanasia?

Can't do it. Not possible. Against the law. Maybe if we became a ghost town we could attract tourism. Why do all the ghost towns have to be in the west?

Thank you for bearing with me through one of the longer preambles to a point in blogging history.

A few weeks ago, our friend Nancy Swett contacted us about attending a meeting at the Riverhead Library where we could discuss the problems of the town and and possibly form a Riverhead Civic Association that could address these problems and, better still, solve some of them. That first meeting was sparsely attended by a few die hard Riverheaders (Riverheads?) who live and/or work in the downtown area and sincerely want things to get better. We agreed that we would meet again in 30 days and see what could be done by attracting more people to the meeting. Last night, the second meeting was held and about 3 times as many people attended. Nancy did a great job of cutting short anyone who wanted to unearth some old gripe and limited the discussion to bringing out the positives about Riverhead of which there are many. Essentially, we have a marketing problem. People saw the negatives for so long, they were completely oblivious to the positives and inertia set in.

Last night, there was electricity in the air and maybe the town has another chance at success fueled by positive thinking. Somewhere, there is a marketing campaign that can turn this place right side up. When Saran Wrap first came on to the market it was a failure because it stuck to itself which made it difficult to handle. Some marketing genius decided to turn this negative into a positive by promoting the fact that Saran Wrap stuck to itself and therefore would adhere to the containers the consumer was using the product to cover. The rest is marketing history.

So, last night we saw the beginnings of an adhesion of minds to the singular problem of saving Riverhead and a dedication to solving its marketing problem. It's the most positive thing I've seen in 12 years.

Let's nurture it!

Oh, and no one can play a sad song on a banjo.