We are in Florida, staying at the Hampton
Inn, it’s morning, and I’m bleary eyed, getting my coffee, when the fellow next
to me asks, “Are yah’ in town for the Flahrdah Sahrsraces?”
“Huh?” He repeats himself.
“I’m sorry, but can you say that again?” Yet once again the words all
run together unintelligibly for me, so that I have to ask a third time.
“Well, guessing not,” he says, chuckling, given that I can’t even
recognize what he’s saying.
“Yes, true, but now I’m curious. What did you say? I really just want to
know.” He repeats it this time, saying each word slowly and distinctly: “The
Flo-ri-da Sires Races.”
“Oh,” I say. “Horse races. No, we’re not, though we did catch one race
yesterday at the track across the street.”
Well, we did. We couldn’t hang out at
the hospital the entire day, our patient needed to rest, and so we had made our
way to the Gulf Stream casino/track/resort across the street, and saw precisely
one race. We got there just as the race was about to start, and so didn’t have
time to place any bets. I guess it was exciting. It was a photo finish. And,
the way I look at it, we came out ahead, since the horses we would have bet on both
lost, so we each saved easily ten or twenty dollars each, by not betting at
all. I have learned a little bit in my travels.
Of all the gambling options, this was the most lucrative of all for us.
No play, no pay. But it was still fun to walk around and take in the sights.
All the same, I felt a little pleased with myself, that we could even be mistaken for horse people, people who follow the parentage and lineage of the various horses, as well as the pedigree of their owners, trainers and riders, and have time to sip mint juleps on a Thursday afternoon when most of the honest working world is doing, well, just that - working.
As Massachusetts weighs the impending
casino vote, it reminds me of a Sunday in August in 2005, the day before
Hurricane Katrina was to make landfall. I remember thinking that, at this time
tomorrow, there would be lives ruined, lost, torn apart, devastated. It was not
a question of whether, but of how many. I’ve had the same thought about the
arrival of the casino to the Boston area. If built here, lives will be
destroyed by it. The decision will be made by a vote, majority rule,
essentially a mob mentality.
I am struck by the two meanings of the
word, mob. A large mass of people. And, the mob. It almost sounds like
something from days gone by, with old fashioned black and white news reels.
Trench coats, fedoras, and machine guns. It almost seems glamorous. Almost. It’s
hard to believe it still exists today. I know nothing of it.
I am very torn. It sounds like Wynn is
interested in creating a world-class attraction that will create jobs and draw
in the big cats, and generate revenue for the Commonwealth. And maybe create a
fun place for us locals to visit now and then. I like the idea of most of the
revenue coming from out-of-towners. It’s sort of like seeing a State Trooper pull
over a car with out-of-state plates. Yay! Thank you for your donation!
I know that if the casinos go ahead,
there will be lives torn apart by them, individuals unable to resist their appeal.
There is another storm out on the horizon approaching our shores, and I know
this, as sure as I am standing here today, that if we welcome it ashore, lives
will be changed forever, there will be losses, and some will lose it all. What
do we want? The decision lies in our hands. We are not voting on the rightness,
the goodness, or the badness of gambling.
We are simply making a choice, a decision – is it for us?
If we bring it here, will we watch out
for each other?
Are we wild horses, or part of a herd?
Are we responsible for our fellow
humans, the fabric of our community, village, or society as a whole?
Or should we just let the chips fall (literally)
as they may?
Tough call. I wouldn’t be surprised if
the bookies in Vegas were taking bets on how this all turns out, even as we
speak!
About
This is the last of my three-part series
on casinos, completing the trifecta, the hat trick, rounding out trips to
Foxwoods, Mohegan Sun, Las Vegas and the Gulf Stream in Florida.
Don’t forget to vote Tuesday!
Coming
Next:
Future blogs on His Holiness the Dalai
Lama’s public talk given at the TD Garden Saturday November 1st, and an
update on the status of women’s collegiate rugby, from one coach’s perspective.
Post
Script:
It is with sadness we bid farewell to
former Mayor Tom Menino, and share our sympathies with Angela Menino and the entire
family. We met Mr. Menino only once, last December, at the ReadBoston event,
and it was truly an honor. Susan took the opportunity to shake his hand and
thank him for everything he had done for this city. (Because what he did in
Boston was felt in all the surrounding communities.) I asked him if I could give him a copy of my
book, and what he did next blew me away – he asked me if I was going to sign it
for him. I’m just an unknown author from Watertown. He could have just as
easily said “thank you very much,” and passed it along to someone in his
entourage. What a big heart he had. Now I only regret that I will never be able
to ask him to return the favor, and sign a copy of his book for me. May his
memory live on and serve as a model for all. Thank you!
©
2014 Rosemary A. Schmidt
Rose Schmidt is the author of “Go Forward,
Support! The Rugby of Life.” If you would like to request permission to use or
reprint any of the content on the site, please contact the author. Use of
individual quotes with proper citation and attribution, within the limits of
fair use, is permitted.
No comments:
Post a Comment