If you’re a true New Englander you can’t help but finish that sentence by singing, “sail away on the Island Queen.” Some people love the jingle. Some people hate it. But all remember the song that draws thousands upon thousands of tourists every summer to Falmouth Harbor to take the ferry to the Vineyard. And isn’t that what a great commercial is supposed to do?

Living around the corner from the I.Q. (which is located on Falmouth Heights Road), I would ride my bike by hoping that someday I would work there.

My dream came true when I was 15. I was interviewed by the owner, Mr. Bardelis, a genuinely good man, and also by the affable Arthur Ratsy. They drilled me with questions and before I knew it, I was hired as a parking lot attendant.

My dream had come true.

But the first day I was given a duty that wasn’t in the job description. Arthur wheeled out a rusty, red lawn mower and instructed me to mow the overflow parking lot (behind John’s Liquors and 7-11) dubbed “Siberia”. Back then the lot wasn’t paved like it is now.

No, it was chest-high grass that hid broken bottles, baby diapers, and who knows what else. It took me eight hours to mow the lot, and at the end of the day, I was seriously considering quitting my “dream job”. That changed when Arthur pulled in and inspected my work.

He handed me a Coke, smiled and said, “Great work, kid. You passed the test. You’re an official employee. Go to Puritans tomorrow and pick up your uniform.”

Inside, I was beaming with pride but instead admitting that fact, I just grabbed the soda and drank it down in two gulps.

My plan was to work at the IQ for a couple of summers and then move onto a more lucrative summer job like bartending where the tips would help pay my college tuition big time. But as one summer lead into the next, I realized what I was receiving from the Island Queen was something much more than big money – it was laughs, life lessons, and friends who would become family to me (the Kozens brothers, Jay, Bails, Miller, Callahan, Wheeler, the Etlers, the Driscolls, Katie, Stoney, the Samples, Cam, Moore, Mansfield, Roc, Conners, Ray Paltz, Chauncy, Scotty, Rick R., T.K., Colin P., the Vallees, Lopesy, Mary, Gags, Olson, Alvesie, Jason B., Rebecca P, The Fitchs, Jessica M, Judy, M.D., Anthony, Gretchen, Hunter, and the list goes on and on.) - a dysfunctional family but it was a family hahahaha.

I ended up working at the Island Queen for 14 years because of those workers mentioned above and so many more (I didn’t even mention the regular customers who became friends).

But a working experience like the one I had happens because it starts from the top. I will always admire and be grateful to Mr. Bardelis and (now) his son, Charlie Jr. for the way they run the IQ. They gave me so many fond memories, and a few of them made it into The Running Waves, and then some are just fiction. At least, that’s what I will tell you if you ask. Haha

Want to take the family to the Vineyard…

Check out http://Islandqueen.com

Below is the McDonald’s commercial that talks about the Island Queen. What it fails to mention is when the IQ horn blows when it enters Falmouth Harbor it’s really a signal for the parking lot attendants to stop playing video games or eating that big sub (Craig) because they have about 12 minutes before the lot becomes an absolute zoo. When I heard the radio version of this commercial I almost drove off the road having flashbacks of the stampede of tourists rushing down Falmouth Heights Road for their cars.

Maybe the McDonalds’ people can have a question –

“Two brothers on the Cape who wrote a book?”

“T.M. Murphy and Seton Murphy.”



-Ted

My mother always told me life was a journey.

"You will experience good times and difficult times," she explained, "but it is how you respond to them that will shape you into the man God intended."

Being a rebellious teen who thought I knew more than my mom, I chose not to listen.

Growing up, I was very fortunate. I came from a home that was filled with unconditional love and constant support. My parents instilled in us at a very early age that we could do anything we set our minds to. Surrounded by this type of positive reinforcement helped us live without the pressures many kids struggled with, allowing to experience fun, carefree lives.

All of that changed for me on July 22, 1993. On that day, two friends died in an unthinkable accident. That fun, carefree life I had taken for granted was now replaced with confusion, sadness, and most of all, anger. This was one of the difficult times my mother warned me about, and it is how I responded that lead me down a path filled with alcohol and drug abuse.

For many years following the deaths of my friends, I self-medicated to ease the pain. Trying to grasp why God took two beautiful souls from people who loved them so much was too difficult to deal with. Drugs and alcohol soon became habit, and any painful emotion that surfaced was buried by substance.

In 2004 I surrendered. I finally accepted that I needed to make permanent changes in my life. It was time to start living as “the man God intended.” Fortunately, Falmouth is such a wonderful community, especially in terms of recovery, so I had a lot of assistance and guidance.

My goal then was to write this book. It was a very cathartic process. Now, I want to share my experiences with young kids who are at a crossroads in their lives. Ted and I would love to give talks, in a realistic manner, at high schools and colleges. Everyone has suffered an overwhelming loss, but you do not have to suffer alone. There are healthy ways to overcome these tragedies.

If you are a high school, university, or organization and would like to have Ted and me come and speak to you, you can start booking us now.

A friend recently asked me why there is an action figure on the cover of TRW, and I told them that it is a symbol of a more innocent time in the main characters' lives. When you read the book you'll experience their time of innocence in many flashback scenes, and also from pop culture references from their childhood. One of the references is to the Davey and Goliath show. When we were kids, all six of us would get up at the crack of dawn and watch the claymation show while eating our Cheerios (Cap'n Crunch with crunch berries on those special mornings). Well, today the creator of Davey and Goliath, Art Clokey passed away. Mr. Clokey will be remembered by the world more for creating Gumby, but for me, he'll be remembered for creating a show that every Saturday brought all the Murphy kids together.

Read more on Clokey at Wikipedia.



-Ted

Growing up, music was a staple in the Murphy house. While my mother prepped meals for eight people, she either sang along with the melancholic lyrics of Dan Fogelberg, or danced to the uplifting tunes of John Denver. If you traveled to the second floor, Nina and Joanna were most likely jamming out to U2 or The Police and if Ted wasn’t joining his two older sisters, he was probably in his room, sulking about some girl he had a crush on, while blasting Echo and the Bunnymen and New Order. Then, a little further down the hall, with the help of bands like The Cure and The Smiths, Sarah spent hours scribbling down beautiful poetry. Finally, at the other end of the house, Courtney and I usually had our own radio battles. The screeching voice of Bon Scott and the hard guitar riffs of Jimmy Page usually beat out her pop diva Madonna and the lighthearted tone of James Taylor. All of this was going on as my father escaped to the silence of the basement to write in peace

Music is everything to us. For me, I need it in the car, at the gym; while I take a shower, clean the kitchen, etc. So when Ted and I first began this book we both agreed that music was going play a significant role. We wanted to use songs that were important to us during 1994, but soon realized that we had too many and needed to cut some from the manuscript. It was not an easy task considering how much we adored the songs we had chosen.

We have explained that this book is a dedication to friends of ours who have died young. Many of the songs are dedications to artists who have died young too. Here are two we needed to keep in TRW. Enjoy.





-Seton

Tags: blind melon, alice in chains

It is January 5, 2010. The current temp is 32 degrees, and Falmouth is covered in icy, dirty, old snow that will taunt me in some variation for the next six weeks making this the boringest place on earth to live. I know I’m being a little dramatic, and I also know that boringest isn’t the proper use of “boring” in the English language, but it sure as hell is when it comes to the Cape Cod vernacular.

When dealing with this process, the Patriots will help me a bit since they’re in the playoffs. At least for this week, I can grab a cup of Midnight Rebel from Coffee O, park at Trunk River, turn the heat up in my car, and listen to Dale and Holley (followed by The Big Show) dissect the upcoming game against the Ravens. But, God forbid, if they lose it will be a long winter.

As I write this, I have just changed that thought. The Sox have just signed Adrian Beltre, and Dale and Holley’s heated discussion on WEEI about signing him has just ignited the hot stove! I have hope now that the news segment of the Red Sox equipment truck being loaded and then heading to Florida is not that far away. I will survive another winter on lonely, Cape Cod.

As in The Running Waves, baseball has always played a big part in my life. Like most New Englanders, my Dad raised Seton (my brother and co-author) and me to root for the Red Sox and love the beauty of the game.

Being a drama director, Dad would always tell us that, “Baseball is the best theater around.”

At early age, I agreed with him and how I would act my baseball dreams was playing wiffle ball games with Seton in our backyard. Of course, Seton was much younger than me (7 year difference) so I would always let him gain a big lead before I tried for my last inning heroics. After I sent him in tears stomping off our field a few too many times, I realized I was being a cruel big brother and decided to pick on someone my own size.

Enter my best summer buddy Mark Penta (http://MarkPenta.com)

Penta (who years later would go on to be my cover illustrator for The Belltown Mystery Series, and then write his own entertaining books, but his biggest claim to fame in my opinion was he played at Framingham South with major league utility great Lou Merloni) had a very small backyard so the style of wiffle ball we played was fast pitch. So the games didn’t end on towering home runs. They ended usually with the pitcher pumping his fist in celebration and pointing at the batter. It was on this field, Penta dubbed me, “The Strikeout King”, a nickname that haunted me for several years until we were able to move to the Heights’ ballpark.

It was at the Heights’ field we changed our rules. More space meant it to strictly become slow pitch wiffle ball. It was also homerun derby. No singles, doubles, or triples. Hits only slowed down the game and by this time in my wiffle ball career the whole neighborhood was lined up to take on the winner. There was only one other way to get on base. We used a beach chair for the strike zone. 8 balls was a walk and if you hit any part of the chair with your pitch it was a called strike. That gave that added tension of 7 and 2 counts. Why did we play eight balls and not four? The field was across the street from the beach, and as you’ll read in The Running Waves at times the winds were tough to deal with.

Anyway, after being embarrassed by Penta by playing his “small ball” (interesting description), I found my game and began to dominate the Heights’ field. Well, at least I can say that when I discuss Penta. There were some visiting teams that fared pretty well. John Gagnon who came from the land of Greengate and Sean Keating who’d journey from Fisherman’s Cove are certainly a couple of names that come to mind.

Occasionally, I would go on the road to play at other friend’s houses. Every house had different obstacles so that meant different home team rules (“If you hit the third level of the house it’s a grand slam” or “If you hit it in the thorn bush it’s an automatic two outs because it’s a pain-in-the-ass to get the ball”).

But one of the most interesting obstacles was at Harding’s house. Anyone who played wiffle ball in Falmouth in the eighties and early nineties will remember Ethan Harding’s Park. Ethan had an actual moving foul pole. Yes, a moving foul pole. When he was up at bat it was in one place – the place that allowed his ball to be fair for a home run. When I would hit the ball in that same area (sometimes the following inning) it always seemed to move –

“No, it’s not that tree.” He’d bark and point, “It’s that one!”

“But when you were up it was that tree.”

“No, man. You’re looking at the wrong tree. That’s a foul, man!”

Ethan is now a Major in the Marines and whenever we get a chance to talk we still argue about our wiffle ball games. We instantly go back to that time.

And that is the greatest part of playing wiffle ball in the summer -having memories that will keep you warm on a 32 degree day.

HERE’S SOME WIFFLE BALL INFORMATION YOU MIGHT BE INTERESTED IN

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wiffle_Ball

http://www.newazone.com/xnationallinks.htm

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BxVjDz1uFqw

-Ted