I'm not much of an artist -- doodles and stuff with my daughter -- but I do a fair bit of writing. I'm a news editor for a weekly newspaper and write columns.
Anyone what to check two most recent out?
We're very local, and it shows. At least I hope it does.

One every year hundreds of Salamanders make their way to the vernal pools of East Brunswick.


Hey there little guy, get over here.
Sit in my hand.
No, don't crawl up my sleeve, you speckled, tickley little lizard.
The road was closed, it was about 40 degrees, nearly spring and the rain had finally started in earnest, and my daughter was holding a cold, wet speckled salamander in the palm of her hand. It tickled her and tried to crawl up her arm, most likely thinking that where there was warmth, there was safety.
In the distance we could hear what sounded like crickets, but was really the noise a thousand spring peepers make at this time of year — the quintessential sound of early spring, said Rich Wolfert, of the East Brunswick Environmental Commission.
We put the reptile down and moved on down Beekman Road in East Brunswick, where our salamander and about 200 of his friends had just begun their yearly migration across the road and into one of two nearby vernal pools — about 50 yards west of us — where they will lay their eggs.
Mr. Wolfert said police departments in South Brunswick and East Brunswick close either side of the road (White Pines Road in South Brunswick) to ensure the safe migration of these reptiles and their companions, the thumb-nail size frogs known as spring peepers.
But it only happens a few nights a year and the conditions need to be just right, at least 40 or so degrees and wet. The rain began falling real good at around 7 p.m., and the salamanders would continue crossing throughout the night, most going back into hibernation the next day, when the area was hit with 4 or so inches of snow and sleet. Mr. Wolfert guessed that 50 had been spotted that night.
I had a headlamp and scanned the roadway while my eagle-eyed family squinted and searched along the side of the road and in small pools of water for more. We were just three of about 80 or so folks who had braved the chilly, rainy, dark March 15 night for a chance to see the salamander migration (or The Great Salamander Run, as I've unofficially named it). All told, my family and I found only one salamander, but saw six or seven of others.
When the salamanders are done doing what they do, and the eggs have hatched and the babies have learned to walk and breathe, they'll disperse into the forest. However, with a farm and busy roads nearby, there aren't a whole lot of places for them to go, forcing some of them to cross the road to find a suitable habitat.
It's a mixed blessing, because people like me now get to watch them cross the road.
"People are having a wonderful time," said Mr. Wolfert. "We had a woman there, this is her third year, and this was the first time she ever touched a salamander. She was just thrilled that she did this."
Yes, you are allowed to handle them, and Mr. Wolfert and other members of the commission are on hand to make sure us amateurs do it carefully. He said salamanders breathe through their skin, and their skin needs to remain moist.
The commission has been inviting visitors and asking that the road be closed for about four years by commission member Dave Moskowitz. Those who come by can park along Church Lane, or on White Pines Road near where the road is blocked.
Mr. Wolfert said the event is a great way to get people to appreciate the world around them.
"People become aware of the fragility of life and nature in this area, and we are encroaching on what should be allowed everywhere," said Mr. Wolfert. "People become interested and more willing to preserve what's left."
And in an area rampant with development, every little bit helps. About 50 to 60 years ago there were hundreds of vernal pools in East Brunswick, but development has left just a few, Mr. Wolfert said, leaving only a few known salamander breeding grounds.
A vernal pool, by the way, is a pond that forms through snowmelt and rainwater. It doesn't have a natural stream to feed it and tends to dry up. Most importantly, it has no fish that can eat the nearly hatched babies, said Mr. Wolfert.
He said raising public awareness has helped the salamanders.
"I think we're actually making a positive difference. We saw some smaller ones, which may be a sign that the population is making a come back," he said. "I would say in that in East Brunswick, this population was at least threatened."
Visit the East Brunswick Environmental Commission at http://www.njnaturenotes.com http://www.njnaturenotes.com for info on salamanders, pictures and updates on this year's migration.


John Saccenti is news editor for the South Brunswick Post and The Cranbury Press. He can be reached at jsaccenti@pacpub.com .








The nation went into mourning over the death of Steve "Captain America" Rogers, who was shot March 7, by an unknown gunman in front of the Federal Courthouse in Manhattan, N.Y.



Editor's note: Here's what the South Brunswick Post's take on the death of Captain America might be if the costumed adventurer were real. Some of the below information was taken from http://www.marvelcomics.com.

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He was someone even the most powerful could look to for inspiration — proud, noble and strong.
"He'll always be the hero that others aspire to be," said comic book enthusiast and Kendall Park resident Mark Kalet.
Those sentiments and many like them were being uttered this week when the nation went into mourning over the death of Steve "Captain America" Rogers, who was shot March 7, by an unknown gunman in front of the Federal Courthouse in Manhattan, N.Y.
Former South Brunswick Chief of Police Michael Paquette said Tuesday that he hadn't slept since hearing the news.
"I think it's terrible," he said. "He represents the best of police officers. As a matter a fact, he was the ultimate police officer and because of his demise, I think the crime rate will rise."
Born in1941 to the parents of Joe Simon and Jack "The King" Kirby, Captain America's heroic career almost never began. Diagnosed with "frailty and sickness," he was rejected for military service but was soon after chosen to take part in the super-secret Operation: Rebirth program, run by noted scientist Abrahan Erskine, also known as Prof. Reinstein.
Mr. Rogers was subjected to a battery of experiments, including exposure to "Vita Rays" and ingestion of the now famous but never duplicated Super-Soldier formula. When Mr. Rogers left the program, the country found itself with a sorely needed hero, Captain America, the first of what was then expected to be many American Super Soldiers.
But things have a way of changing, and the assassination of Dr. Erskine left America with just one champion — Captain America. What followed was a colorful career that began with Captain America first leading a battle against domestic infiltrators — rousting domestic Nazi spy rings — and later leading American troops in combat, often facing Nazi war criminals such as the Red Skull, Baron Zemo and even Adolf Hitler himself. His courage, valor and never-say-die attitude served as an inspiration to American and Allied troops, and to those living at home.
"He was somebody I remember reading about, when I was 5 years old, when I was reading my brother's comic books," said Mr. Kalet.
While Mr. Kalet said those old magazines helped shape the person he is today, he is sad to see that some of Captain America's values have gone by the wayside in today's generation of superhero.
"He was a legend and something for younger heroes to aspire to, although less so in this current era. His values were kind of sidetracked by other heroes who kind of had a darker agenda," he said.
"They sort of look at him as this old war horse. Someone they look up to, but whose values are now meaningless," said Mr. Kalet.
Captain America's role wasn't lost even on those who knew him. Former comic book artist Vince Russell, formerly of South Brunswick, drew the hero several times for issues of "Wolverine" and "The Avengers."
"Captain America was the lynchpin of the Marvel Universe as far as I'm concerned. He was Marvel's Superman," said Mr. Russell. "Being the altruistic hero, always looking at the positive aspects of things, yet sometimes being realistic, made him a well balanced superhero. "
Captain America served alongside his sidekicks, James Buchanan Barnes, also known as "Bucky," and "The Winter Soldier," Rick Jones, also known as "Bucky" and James Monroe, who also spent time as "Bucky" and later was known as "Nomad"; Prince Namor of Atlantis; the original Human Torch and his sidekick, Toro; and nearly every other Marvel Comics superhero.
While he became a symbol of the American war efforts, Captain America disappeared during its final days, the victim of an exploding experimental spy plane in 1945, and never tasted the victory he had fought so hard for. What became of America's No. 1 Mystery Man remained a mystery until the mid-1960s, when the super team, The Avengers, found him floating in an iceberg near the Arctic Ocean. That he survived is not only a testament to his strength and iron will, but to the amazing powers of the Super-Soldier formula, which prevented the crystallization of Captain America's bodily fluid, allowing him to enter a state of suspended animation.
Once revived, Captain America quickly reminded people why he was a symbol of all that is good about America. He became a cornerstone of The Avengers, and the most respected, cherished and honored of America's superheroes.
"I just like the fact that he was almost a throwback. He kept those values he had in the 40s when he was frozen. Even though he was affected by 90s sensibilities, he kept that attitude of treating people with kindness, going as far as you could go, not extracting revenge, by seeking justice," said Mr. Russell.
The hero also was a man known for not being afraid to speak out against what he felt were injustices, even if it meant going against the American government.
In fact, his final days are a testament to the lengths he sometimes went to fight for what he thought was right. An outspoken critic of the new Super Hero Registration act, which requires all metahumans to register with the government, Captain America lead an illegal and unsanctioned group known as the Secret Avengers and found himself squaring off against longtime friends, including Iron Man and Reed "Mr. Fantastic" Richards. The confrontation ended with a battle in the middle of New York City, during which Captain American surrendered rather than continue the damage done to the city and its residents.
The issue had everyday fans split as well.
"You can't imagine superheroes just acting willy-nilly without any overseer. In the real world, I would definitely want them registered, not as an extension of the military," said Mr. Kalet. "You have to have somebody to police the superheroes. But in a comic book world, I can't help but think that this thing has changed the status quo."
Captain American was on his way to being arraigned when he was assassinated. He was pronounced dead at Mercy Hospital due to injuries suffered from multiple gunshot wounds to the shoulder, chest and stomach.
He was a high school graduate with one year of art school. He attended military basic training, and received private tutoring in hand-to-hand combat, gymnastics, military strategy, piloting, demolition and other disciplines. He is known as one of the finest human combatants the Earth has ever known.
He also spent time as a freelance artist.
Among his other aliases are the Captain and Nomad. He was a proud member of the Invaders during World War II, the Avengers, the Secret Avengers and partner and mentor to an endless line of heroes.
While Captain America's exploits are legendary, he is not necessarily a superhuman. The effects of Operation Rebirth brought his body to the peak of human performance. Representing the pinnacle of human perfection, he had the agility, strength and reaction time superior to any world class athlete, his endurance was phenomenal and he was able to lift 800 pounds.
Despite his death, some fans are hopeful that the man in red, white and blue will return.
Will he come back to the living?
"Of course he will. He's Captain America. You think death can keep a living legend down," said Mr. Kalet.
Mr. Paquette agreed.
"If Superman can come back, then Captain America can come back. Maybe they'll promote him, maybe they'll make him Major America," he said.
Captain America's parents, Joseph and Sara, are deceased. He is survived by a small group of friends, including the recently resurrected and former kid sidekick James Buchanan Barnes; Rick Jones; Sam "The Falcon" Wilson; and a special friend, Sharon Carter.
Graveside services will be held at Arlington National Cemetery, where he will receive full military honors.

John Saccenti is the decidedly non-super news editor of the South Brunswick Post. He can be reached via his super secret e-mail hotline, jsaccenti@pacpub.com.


http://www.cranburypress.com

I think this is a great idea, John. Mary and Valerie share the stories they both write, so your own columns sound to be another great addition to this board.

I don't write them every week cause I gets to writes the editorials too. But I'll post them as write them.
I have a lot more that I can post right here, rather than a link, since they've fallen into our archive system.

Here's two that won third place in the New Jersey Press Association 2006 contest. I'm posting them cause the awards are tonight.

I'm not going. It's a cash bar.


Whether celebrating the commercials or actual football, the Super Bowl is an excuse to party.


It was 18 years ago when we were first promised a start-to-finish battle for the ages. A gridiron classic.
It was the first battle of the bottles, Bud Bowl, with Bud Light facing off against Budweiser in a football contest for the ages.
It was lame, but had the intended effect — I drank, grateful that the commercial at least reminded me that there was a clear, easy way to escape it. Unfortunately, Bud Bowl II reared its ugly head about a year later and I began to wish they made commercials for something stronger than beer.
The parade of idiotically clever Super Bowl commercials didn't end there. A few years later I was forced to watch frogs ribbet about the wonders of the very same beer. A year after that, I listened as people told me that they couldn't wait to see how those very same frogs once again cleverly croaked that alcohol is our friend.
A few years later, I watched as some guy with a sock on his hand tried to sell me pet food.
Aaaah, the Super Bowl. Don't ya love it?
Actually, that's a dumb question. Everyone loves the Super Bowl, even if they don't love football.
Don't believe me? Well, consider this. Have you ever been invited to, or heard of, a Super Bowl commercial party? That's right, a party celebrating not football, but commercials. The very commercials I mention above.
I'm not sure when or how this phenomenon began. However, after giving it some thought, I come to two possible conclusions: Either people really do love commercials and the Super Bowl is their "Super Bowl," or they are so ashamed to admit that they might enjoy a day with the game, that they have concocted a strange and unbelievable excuse to buy and eat Buffalo wings on Super Bowl Sunday.
I say unbelievable because I don't believe anyone loves commercials so much that they would have a party for them.
That is, unless this is a conversation you've had: "Hey honey, McDonald's has a new sandwich."
"Awesome! Pop a tape in. I'll watch it later. But don't use my 'Where's the Beef?' video."
Doesn't make sense, does it?
(If I'm wrong here, I apologize. You may go back to flipping during the good parts of "24" in search of the latest soda pitch and I'll be quiet.)
No, I'm putting my money on my second conclusion.
Super Bowl Sunday hit the big time years ago when non-sports-lovin' friends and family members decided that they wanted in on the fun. The parties came, the snacks arrived and guest lists grew and fun reigned for the day — a shiny, warm spot smack dab in the middle of winter.
But not everyone liked football, and they could hardly be seen at a football event. They did, however, like parties.
Enter the commercial: the sports-hater's salvation. Now, instead of talking about tackles, they can talk about frogs. Instead of wondering who set the Super Bowl record for most TDs or sacks or rushing yards, they can say, "remember that commercial with the sock puppet? Man, those were the days." Or, "Man, frogs never get old."
And thanks to that, the Super Bowl is now one of the very few days of the year where people ask "so, what are you doing for the Super Bowl," and there is usually an answer.
But listen up. You're not fooling anyone. I know you don't like commercials. That's why you bought the TiVo. So stop pretending. Just go to the party, ignore the game, and eat lots of snacks.
It's what the day is about.

Learning something new can be challenging but also rewarding.


It looked like wet glass, only harder, colder and more likely to make my body jerk and spasm uncontrollably when I slipped.
I put my skate onto the ice.
In my mind I could see my feet flail in a panic all their own as they tried to grip the freshly Zambonied surface. I put my second skate down and my hand gripped tightly to something on my right (it may have been a wall, it may have been someone's arm, I'll never know).
I steadied myself for a minute and the visions of bumps, bruises and concussions faded from my mind. But, I didn't feel any more comfortable then I had a few minutes earlier when I'd laced up my skates, and my legs tingled in anticipation of a fall that hadn't yet come.
One little baby step. And then another. And then another. And then a deep breath because, well, I hadn't fallen yet, and that alone was an accomplishment.
I took a few more steps toward the center of the ice — my arms spread out like the wings of the dodo bird trying in vain to take flight — where an employee of the Princeton Sports Center ice skating rink in Monmouth Junction said she would give me, and anyone else there, a quick lesson on ice skating.
I made it without falling and a woman with a European accent told me how to fall, and how to glide across the ice with all the grace of a 35-year-old who hasn't ice skated since he was, what, 7? When I asked her how to stop, she said stop using my feet and I'll slow down. I suggested running into a wall.
She agreed that that would work just as well.
Confident that with a little concentration I would soon master the fine art of going straight, I looked around for my family. It was my wife's birthday and to celebrate we decided on a little ice skating, something she'd been wanting to do for some time.
She and my daughter had spent the previous Monday skating at a school function, which obviously gave them the advantage, an advantage they didn't shy from. As soon as our lesson was over, the two of them, and my daughter's friend, took off, leaving me to fend for myself on the mirror smooth ice.
I watched as they zoomed around, my wife going backward, and my daughter and her friend setting speed records. For about 20 minutes, maybe longer, I did what only can be described as the Frankenstein, trying as hard as I could to figure this thing out.
Which I did.
I hadn't really warmed up to the idea, and at first the only interest it held for me was that my wife and daughter wanted to do it. I even thought about bringing a helmet, but really, that would have been admitting defeat before I even got on the ice.
But once I got going, I spent nearly two-and-a-half hours out there, whizzing (yes, whizzing, I'm quite the daredevil) around and forcing myself to learn to turn. I even thought about trying a "move" or two, but decided against it, daredevil or no.
I was a convert, sort of, to skating, and while I was never 100 percent comfortable out there, I did eventually decide that I was having fun.
I eventually, caught up with my skate mates and basked in the glow of having learned something new, something that doesn't happen all that often these days.
And, I did it without falling.

And here's one more. It's a rant.



Campaign calls prove to be more annoying than insightful


Thank you very much.
And by "thank you very much," what I really mean to say is "the idiots who were calling me every five minutes last weekend have ruined yet another perfectly good Election Day."
There I was, just days before mid-term elections, blissfully unaware that my vote Tuesday would determine whether or not America would continue its unprecedented economic and international success.
I was shaken out of this ignorance-is-bliss moment last weekend when I fielded probably 30 or so calls, many left on the answering machine, telling me that if I voted wrong, the good ol' U.S. of A would fall into the gaping maw of disease, pestilence, corruption and Democratic control. They interrupted my breakfast, my lunch, my dinner, my bathroom breaks, and even my valuable yard work and television times to tell me this.
Every single one of these calls was placed by the Republican Party. I am apparently what the GOP refers to as "the base," and I fear that they were trying to motivate me.
Among these calls were polite teenagers, confused adults and people working hard to get people out to vote.
Many of the calls were innocuous. Others were designed to scare. And none of them were informative. The ones I didn't get to took up at least 10 minutes of answering machine tape. If they wanted to annoy me to the point where I'll vote just to shut them up, then mission accomplished.
I even received a call from Mario Andretti, who for some reason felt compelled to "reach out" to his fellow Italian-Americans and encourage them to vote Republican. (I must admit that Mr. Andretti sounded suspiciously like the guitarist Esteban, who also has left messages on my machine thanks to a QVC purchase.)
Two of these calls were recordings of celebrity politicians Rudy Giuliani (America's mayor) and U.S. Sen. John (Straight Talk Express) McCain. Several included anonymous voices of doom telling me that not only were Republicans awesome, but Democrats were dangerous.
Message received. If I wanted to show "the man" who's boss, that I like freedom and safety, then I should vote for..."the man," Republicans.
I guess it should have been obvious, especially since the last six years have gone so swimmingly.
Now, I'll let you in on a little secret. I'm actually a registered Republican, which probably explains the number of calls I received, and I had already planned on voting against my Democratic East Brunswick Township Council candidates. In the race for U.S. Senate and House of Representative, I had planned to vote Democrat, mostly because both have hit historic highs for awfulness under their current makeup. However, I don't hold out much hope that the Democrats will be much better, in the long run at least.
Needless, to say, the calls I received last weekend only served to reinforce my views. But, as annoying as they were, and as angry as they made me, I found some to be very educational.
For instance, did you know that the past six years have been fantastic? Economically, we have never been better. Perhaps Sen. McCain could compare my salary this year to my salary six years ago. Record economic growth my ear.
Did you know we have terrorists on the run, but Democrats will make nice with them, and perhaps even invite them over for a night in the Lincoln Bedroom? Why, they might even post nuclear bomb plans on government Web sites, just like the Republican administration recently did.
Did you know that Republicans will continue steering America to prosperity? I can only assume that this will mean more outsourcing, tax breaks for companies that move "off shore" and the continuing disintegration of our manufacturing base.
Did you know that spend-and-tax Democrats will only make government it bigger, possibly big enough to encroach on my right to privacy? I hear they may even reserve the right to suspend habeas corpus. Shudder.
Did you know that Democrat U.S. Rep Nancy Pelosi is the Antichrist? (OK. I made that one up).
Seriously though, if I didn't know any better, I would think that Republicans were as delusional as they think we are. Why would they send out these impersonal, fear-filled messages that resemble veiled threats more than they do honest-to-goodness campaigning?
I have no problem if you vote Republican. I do it myself quite often. Just as long as you know why you're voting Republican.
For me, I look at it this way. If the party in power can't honestly tell me how they've done a good job, and make an argument for their record, then how can I expect them to do a good and honest job representing me, my family and my friends and peers?
Thanks guys. My decision was easy, but now you've gotten me all riled up about it.

Good reads!

Thanks. When I write them, I usually crank them out fairly quickly so I of course hate them all.
I'd better write a few more soon now that I'm back at work.

I meant to post this when It ran. It's about bring your dad to school day.


It had been a long time since I participated in a fire drill, but there I was Monday morning, filing out of my daughter’s elementary school with students and teachers.

The alarm’s nightmarish screech had caught me off guard, and I froze for a few minutes as hundreds of girls and boys marched silently out of their classrooms, down the halls and passed me on their way to the street. A moment later I followed, amazed at how quiet and disciplined that many children can be.

After a few minutes, another bell rang and we filed back, the children with their discipline and me with a handful of newspapers and some notes about what I was going to speak about once everyone had settled back into their rooms. It was Career Day at my daughter’s school and I was there to tell them about the exciting world of newspapers.

OK. Maybe not so exciting to you and me (in fact, most of you are probably reading this on a squint-inducing computer monitor rather than getting your fingers dirty with newsprint) but it was exciting to the class, and to my daughter Jessica, who got to show me off that day.

To say I wasn’t a little nervous would be a lie. I was told to prepare to speak to about 100 third-graders, and even though I’d met many of them over the years, getting in front of them all at once was a little intimidating. Would they laugh at me? Would I stutter and stumble over my words? Would I do the whole presentation with food stuck in my teeth?

Fortunately, none of that happened. In fact, the experience was just the opposite. The students had a genuine curiosity that put me at ease, asking questions with an interest that few people — even the seasoned newspapermen I work with — have about their own profession.

I was surprised. Heck, I even started to feel good about myself, and prouder than ever at what I do and what I’ve accomplished over the years.

It was a feeling that has been difficult to come by in recent months. The newspaper industry is in trouble, with more people getting their news on the Internet or not getting it all, and advertisers spending less than ever before, the future, it seems is bleak for my industry.

But for almost an hour on Monday morning I felt important, good about what I do and hopeful that the industry and my job will flourish into the future.

Like fire drills on a Monday morning, it had been a long time since I’d felt like that, and for that I have a classroom of third-graders to thank.

John Saccenti is Managing Editor for The Cranbury Press and the South Brunswick Post. He can be reached at jsaccenti@centraljersey.com.

I particularly liked the first one! But I really delight in wondering what people thought when they read Cap's obit. More is good!

Thanks!
As usual, in the strange world of local weekly newspapers, people only call or e-mail if you missed an event, or pissed them off. Cap's obit did neither.