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When I was younger I had a friend who lived in a historical house on Hope Street. The house was a large, waterfront structure that also sat perfectly on the parade route. The driveway was cobblestone, fireplaces were numerous, a secret staircase sparked the imagination, and the creepy attic and hidden closets put a youngster on notice. However, nothing compared to the configuration of the basement. The basement had remnants of shackles being attached to the walls and small tunnels that extended into the foundation. The entryway to the tunnels were blocked by the home's owner with modern day clutter. I asked my friend why the tunnels were blocked. He told me that he and his sister once went into the tunnel, they both started hearing screams and voices, and never went back in. He talked about slaves, ships, and how we should get out of the basement. Slaves? The story scared me, so without hesitation I left the basement, but I never forgot the feeling I had while I was down there. But yet, up a staircase and out the front door and we were again in the presence of American flags, parade floats, and thousands of patriotic people. Like a time warp.

Conquest, oppression, alcohol and profits...some may call this Patriotism, glorifying it all in a parade of self-righteous justification would only make sense. Last year, Chief Marshall Gallison lied his way to the top, stole from taxpayers, under-privileged children, even a dead man, all while pretending to be the most Patriotic man in Bristol. Depending on ones definition of Patriotism...maybe he was the most patriotic?

The Evil exists

From: 'Most scenic' designation could help boost tourism to Bristol

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Jim McGaw

A lifelong Portsmouth resident, Jim graduated from Portsmouth High School in 1982 and earned a journalism degree from the University of Rhode Island in 1986. He's worked two different stints at East Bay Newspapers, for a total of 18 years with the company so far. When not running all over town bringing you the news from Portsmouth, Jim listens to lots and lots and lots of music, watches obscure silent films from the '20s and usually has three books going at once. He also loves to cook crazy New Orleans dishes for his wife of 25 years, Michelle, and their two sons, Jake and Max.