Welcome to The Totem Pole!

Hey friend! Thanks for stopping by. My name is Matt, and this blog is my totem pole. It’s my story.

The backdrop for this story’s first act was the Blizzard of 1978, when Boston got hit with nearly 4 feet of snow, paralyzing the region and bringing area transportation to a halt. I was born within days of this devastating storm, an all-too-fitting welcome mat for life in New England. I grew up in Boston and have spent the greater part of my adult life in this City. While I’ve also spent time living in Ann Arbor, Michigan and Houston, Texas, Boston has always felt like home.

Today, I live in the Jamaica Plain neighborhood of Boston with my wife, Stacie, and our Appenzeller-mix Dusty. We love everything about JP, from the restaurants, to the local stores and small businesses, to Jamaica Pond.

Be on the lookout for new contact, pictures, and other media in the coming months as I tell my story in true totem pole style.

My Dad and the Movies

I am a lover of film. I credit my Father with instilling this passion since he spent the majority of his professional life in the movie business. For over 35 years, my Dad worked for movie theater companies such as General Cinema and Hoyts Cinemas. As an employee of these companies, he had unlimited access to movie showings. For a kid, this is like the golden ticket. My Father has been retired for over 10 years, yet he (and I) still benefit from his career in the movie business. Each year, just before New Years, a season pass to several of the area movie theaters arrives in the mail. It’s our golden ticket to the movies.

Developments in home theater technology have brought a movie theater-like experience to living rooms all around the world. But for me, there’s nothing quite like the experience of going to the movies. I can remember the year that Ghostbusters, one of my favorite movies, debuted (1984), mostly because I saw it in the theater 6 times. To this day I’ve never seen one particular movie in the theater more than twice. By today’s prices, and had we not been fortunate to have a movie pass, those 6 trips to the theater might have cost nearly $100.

I’ve been meaning to lend some thought to my favorite movies. I’ve always loved Ghostbusters, but I like others too. I’ll post them in the coming weeks. Stay tuned! In the meantime, here’s an interview my father did a few years ago where he discussed his career in the movies as well as other interests he has pursued in his retirement. Nice butterfly backdrop, by the way.

Becoming a ‘Wammer

The Summer of 1986 was my first year as a camper at Camp Wigwam, a 7-week overnight camp for boys in Waterford, Maine. My Father, a camper himself in his youth, heard about the camp from a friend who had sent his son there in prior summers. Besides sleepovers at the home of close friends, I had never been away from my parents for more than a few days. Looking back, I have to admit that to that point in my life I had lived a pretty easy life. Yeah, I was 8 years old at the time, but I never before had to fend for myself in the way I would have to at camp. We were expected to make our beds each day in military fashion, keep the bunk neat and tidy, and generally ensure that we arrived at all meals and activities on time. There were counselors around to help out, but I was on my own or with my bunkmates enough to develop a substantial amount of independence. This would serve me quite well in those ensuing years and even today.

Camp taught me so much more than how to tie a fishing hook or avoid poison ivy. My camp experience allowed me to develop a heightened sense of responsibility for myself and others, how to be a good teammate, and how to compete with honor, integrity, and dignity. I also learned quite a lot about myself. This introspection proved to be of greatest value in those years as it is in my life today. More than anything else, I knew that if I could hack it as an 8-year old on my own then I’d be comfortable anywhere. It probably explains why I was so quickly able to adapt to living away from Boston. That fear or anxiety that comes with adapting to new places or new routines didn’t seem quite so insurmountable. I have Camp Wigwam to thank for that.

Why totem poles?

Great question. Why totem poles, indeed! Totem poles are one of those things I have embedded in my memory from being at summer camp. My parents shipped me off to camp when I was 8 years old, pausing only to unload my trunk and other gear before tearing off down the road. In actuality, I do remember it being a somewhat tearful goodbye in that first year, though I’m fairly certain that they accelerated quickly away after every drop off thereafter.

I loved camp. In fact, I still visit the camp from time to time. Little has changed through the years, like a living, breathing time capsule. That totem pole (pictured) is still standing in its original perch just above the camp’s large fire pit where, standing in front of a roaring fire, the camp director would tell us the totem pole’s story each year. I’m a little fuzzy on the details, but the gist of the story was about the Native Americans who once occupied the land before the camp was built. There was an additional part explaining why, to this day, bears have short tails. I was skeptical of this story even as an 8 year old, but staring at this beautifully carved structure in the light of the fire, it appeared magical and mysterious. Anything was possible.