From Sand Dunes to Shark Apps

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Old Cape Cod, just as Patti Page imagined it — dunes, salty air, and a quiet stretch of shoreline that still remembers how things used to be.

Old Cape Cod: From Sand Dunes to Shark Apps

If you’re fond of sand dunes and salty air,

Quaint little villages here and there…

You’re sure to fall in love with old Cape Cod.

Patti Page sang those words in 1957, and the song didn’t just become a hit — it reshaped the Cape’s identity. That gentle, dreamy portrait of a sleepy peninsula helped launch Cape Cod into the national imagination. Tourists followed, then developers, and before long those “quaint little villages” gave way to strip malls, big‑box stores, and summer traffic that can test the patience of a saint.

But one thing never changed: the beaches. Crowded or not, they’re still the Cape’s heartbeat. And if we take a little walk through time, we can see just how much this place has transformed since Patti Page made musical history.

A Peninsula Born of Ice

Cape Cod is a hooked, sandy arm stretching 65 miles into the Atlantic — the leftover handiwork of the last Ice Age. It’s narrow in some places, wide in others, bordered by Cape Cod Bay, Buzzards Bay, and the waters of Vineyard and Nantucket Sounds. For centuries, life here revolved around the sea.

Nantucket, in particular, was once the whaling capital of the world. From the late 1600s through the mid‑1800s, whaling was its lifeblood. But as regulations tightened and the industry declined, Nantucket reinvented itself as a quiet retreat for the wealthy — a transformation that still defines the island today.

Preserving the Cape

On the mainland, conservation took center stage. In 1961, the federal government created the Cape Cod National Seashore, protecting miles of shoreline from development. Monomoy National Wildlife Refuge followed, safeguarding critical habitat for birds and marine life.

Then came a turning point: In 1972, the Marine Mammal Protection Act granted federal protection to seals.

That’s when the Cape’s story took a dramatic turn.

The Return of the Great Whites

As the seal population exploded, so did interest from a very different kind of visitor. In 1975, the blockbuster Jaws gave the world a fictional taste of shark‑infused terror — but it also foreshadowed reality. Over the next few decades, great white sharks began returning to Cape waters in growing numbers, drawn by the booming seal colonies.

The shift became undeniable on September 15, 2018, when Arthur Medici, a 26‑year‑old from Revere, was fatally attacked while boogie boarding at Newcomb Hollow Beach. It was the first deadly shark attack in Massachusetts since 1936, and it marked the beginning of what many now call the new Cape Cod.

Today, great whites are summer regulars. We have:

  • Spotter planes and research boats
  • Electronic shark‑detection buoys
  • Beach warnings near seal haul‑outs
  • And yes — an app for that. The Sharktivity app lets you track shark sightings in real time.

Even whale‑watch boats report seeing sharks, and whenever a whale carcass washes ashore, you can bet the great whites will arrive shortly after.

And they’re not alone. In 2025, a fisherman off Mashpee reported the Cape’s first confirmed tiger shark sighting. Offshore charter captains share videos of sharks stealing fish right off the line. There’s even shark cage diving now — something once associated only with South Africa or Australia.

A Personal Note: The Cape’s Own Shark Celebrity

The Cape has its own celebrity in Dr. Greg Skomal, author, marine biologist, and the face of modern shark research in Massachusetts. He’s been a champion of the great white’s return and a pioneer in tagging and tracking them. You’ve probably seen him on Discovery Channel’s Shark Week, leaning over the bow of a boat with a tagging pole in hand.

I’ve had the privilege of meeting him and hearing several of his presentations. He’s charming, funny, and completely approachable — the kind of scientist who makes you feel like you’re part of the adventure. The sharks couldn’t ask for a better advocate.

Is This Still “Old Cape Cod”?

Somehow, the Cape feels less like Patti Page’s quiet seaside escape and more like a place where nature has reclaimed its throne. The dunes and salty air are still here, but the cast of characters has changed. Tourists still flock to the beaches — but so do apex predators.

Cape Cod isn’t sleepy anymore. It’s wild, unpredictable, and very much alive.

And maybe that’s part of its magic.

 

Summer on the Cape: A Visit to Marconi Beach

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A roadside “Welcome to Cape Cod” sign surrounded by tall green trees, featuring a lighthouse illustration and the text “Massachusetts – Cape Cod & Islands – 2026.”

Crossing the Bridge Into Cape Time

It’s summer in Massachusetts, and that means my brain automatically drifts east toward the Cape. Or Cape Cod for all of you visiting from away. Around here, we just say “the Cape,” and everyone knows exactly what we mean. We’re heading over the bridge—doesn’t matter if it’s Bourne or Sagamore—once you’re south of either one, you’ve officially crossed into Cape Time.

Lunch, Seals, and Fresh Catch

After weaving through the inevitable bridge traffic, the whole Cape opens up like a choose‑your‑own‑adventure book. One of my favorite early stops is Chatham Pier Fish Market. I swear, nothing tastes more like summer than fresh fish eaten with the sun on your shoulders and gulls arguing overhead. The fishing boats unload right in front of you, the seals pop up hoping for snacks, and I’m sitting there humming “Yummy Yummy Yummy” because yes—I’ve got fresh catch in my tummy and a whole day ahead of me.

Heading Into the National Seashore

With lunch behind me, I can wander anywhere along the Cape Cod National Seashore. Miles of dunes, beaches, and history—yes, history. Cape Cod isn’t all sun and sand and sharks. It played a very real part in developing the wireless technology we rely on every single day.

Marconi Beach: Where Wireless Communication Was Born

A Little Science, A Little Drama

Guglielmo Marconi built the world’s first successful wireless transmitter—basically the ancestor of every text message you’ve ever sent. Thanks to his invention, the RMS Carpathia heard the Titanic’s SOS and raced to help, saving more than 700 people. Not bad for a guy tinkering with radio waves.

Why Cape Cod?

To send signals across the Atlantic, Marconi needed stations positioned just right. He built them in Poldhu, England; Glace Bay, Nova Scotia; and—surprise—South Wellfleet, Massachusetts. Yes, right here on the Cape. On January 18, 1903, the South Wellfleet station made history by completing the first two‑way wireless communication between Europe and America. Before long, ship‑to‑shore messages became big business. You could send a social note or a business update for fifty cents a word, which makes today’s texting bills look pretty good.

Cape Cod: The First “Voice of America”

For about fifteen years, the South Wellfleet station was the powerhouse of North American wireless communication. Skilled telegraphers tapped out messages at about seventeen words a minute, and the station—known by its call sign “CC” for Cape Cod—became the unofficial voice reaching out across the ocean.

Erosion, War, and the End of an Era

Nothing on the Cape stays still for long, especially the coastline. The cliff under Marconi’s station was eroding at roughly three feet a year, inching the towers closer to disaster. By 1917, with World War I underway and new technology replacing spark‑gap transmitters, the Navy shut the station down for security reasons. It never reopened, and by 1920 the whole operation was dismantled.

What Remains Today

Most of the original site has been claimed by the Atlantic—those cliffs don’t play around. But the surrounding land is protected as part of the Cape Cod National Seashore. If you stand on the bluff on a cold winter day, looking out over the ocean, it’s easy to imagine the crackle of early radio signals leaping across the waves. This quiet stretch of coastline is where global wireless communication truly began.

 

The Day Roswell Landed on the Map

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“A glowing disc‑shaped UFO hovering in a dark, misty night sky, shining bright green beams of light onto the ground below.”

Seventy‑nine years ago today, on July 8, 1947, the Roswell Army Air Field casually announced they’d recovered a “flying disc.” Just tossed it into the news like someone found a lost hubcap in the desert.

By the next day, the Army said, “No no, wait — it was a weather balloon.” And that was the moment America collectively raised an eyebrow and said, “Sure it was.”

That tiny headline didn’t just make the local paper — it put Roswell, New Mexico on the map. Before the “crash,” it was a quiet desert town. After the “crash,” it became the Alien Capital of the World, complete with:

  • UFO museums
  • alien‑themed diners
  • green‑skinned mascots
  • and an annual festival that looks like Comic‑Con met Area 51

All because someone typed “flying disc” before their morning coffee.

The whole modern UFO craze — the sightings, the documentaries, the late‑night radio callers, the government cover‑up theories — traces back to that one moment in 1947.

And decades later, The X‑Files summed up the entire Roswell vibe with its iconic slogan:

“I want to believe.”

Roswell still does. Do you?

 

Boogie in the Bogs: A Massachusetts Cranberry Story

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A close-up view of fresh cranberries, glossy and bright red, filling the entire frame.

Sweet Stuff and a Tart Little Legend

We’ve talked about all the sweet things Massachusetts is famous for — cookies, candies, Cambridge’s confectioner’s row, and that little “INN” in Wareham — but there’s one flavor we haven’t touched yet. And honestly? It’s one of my favorites.

Cranberries. The original sweet‑tart.

Fall Means Bog Season

Once fall rolls around, it’s time to boogie in the bogs. The colors turn electric red, the air gets crisp, and every farm stand suddenly smells like cider donuts and chocolate‑covered cranberries. I will happily pig out on those tart little gems until someone pries the bag out of my hands.

Ocean Spray: Born Tart, Raised Bold

Ocean Spray is a cornerstone of Massachusetts life, and its headquarters sit right in Lakeville — practically down the road from me. I’ve always loved their slogan: Born Tart. Raised Bold. It fits the berry and the people who grow it.

The company started with just three maverick farmers who weren’t afraid of bold beginnings. Today, around 700 family growers carry that same spirit forward. That’s a lot of families keeping a very Massachusetts tradition alive.

A Berry With Deep Roots

Cranberries aren’t just a fall decoration or a Thanksgiving side dish. They’re one of the oldest cultivated crops in New England. Native peoples harvested wild cranberries long before colonists arrived, using them for food, medicine, and dyes. When commercial bogs began popping up in the 1800s, Massachusetts quickly became the cranberry capital of the country.

And here’s the fun part: Most of those bogs aren’t on Cape Cod at all. They’re north of the bridges — in Carver, Wareham, Middleboro, Lakeville, and all through southeastern Massachusetts. The Cape gets the fame, but the mainland grows the berries.

How a Bog Works

Cranberry bogs aren’t ponds, and they aren’t fields. They’re a little of both. The vines grow low to the ground, and when harvest time comes, the farmers flood the bog. Cranberries float — which means the berries rise to the surface in a bright red sea. Workers corral them with big booms, scoop them up, and send them off to become juice, sauce, dried snacks, and those chocolate‑covered beauties I love so much.

If you’ve never seen a bog harvest, put it on your fall bucket list. It’s like watching the land turn into a giant bowl of cranberry punch.

Cranberries: A Year‑Round Massachusetts Flavor

Cranberries may be harvested in the fall, but they’re a Massachusetts flavor for all seasons. Summer cookouts, beach days, backyard evenings — cranberries show up everywhere if you let them. Sprinkle a handful into your summer salad and suddenly all those greens have a little bite, a surprise pop of tart flavor that jumps out and wakes the whole bowl up. And one of my favorite summer treats proves it.

A Seasonal Favorite: The Loaded Cranberry Hot Dog

This is the hot dog that says cranberries aren’t just for Thanksgiving — they’re for July, August, and every sunny day in between.

A hot dog in a bun topped with stuffing and cranberry sauce, served in a red‑and‑white checkered basket with bowls of stuffing and cranberry sauce in the background.

Here’s how to build one:

  • Place cooked hot dogs and buns on a platter for serving.
  • Add cranberry sauce into a serving bowl with a spoon.
  • Add gravy into a serving bowl with a spoon.
  • Add stuffing into a serving bowl with a spoon.
  • Build your hot dog by adding stuffing, a spoonful of cranberry sauce, and a drizzle of gravy over the top for a fully loaded summer hot dog.

It’s sweet, savory, tart, bold — and it works shockingly well. Cranberries aren’t just a fall tradition. They’re a Massachusetts tradition, all year long.

 

Some days The Dragon Wins

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A green dragon lounging against a tree in a grassy field, casually using a knight’s lance like a toothpick. Pieces of defeated knight armor are scattered around, with a castle visible in the distance. The dragon looks relaxed and victorious, as if enjoying a quiet moment after winning a battle.

Some Days the Dragon Wins

Retirement is great… until it’s not. Anyone on a fixed income will tell you that making ends meet at the end of each month is the biggest challenge. Us old folks have medical bills you whipper snappers can’t even imagine, plus the aches and pains that remind us we’re still alive. On top of that, we have to watch every penny. Creative accounting becomes a skill set. I’m pretty good at it — but today wasn’t one of those days. Some days the dragon wins.

Everything Hits at Once

Today is grocery shopping day. I like to stock up when things are on sale so I have a freezer full of options on the lean weeks. Today’s list was pretty basic. While I was checking the old cash flow, an alert flew across my phone: Forever stamps are going up to 82¢. What!? Wow. That’s a lot. Almost a dollar just to pay a bill. And of course the only bills I still mail are the medical ones — the ones that make paying online feel like earning a college degree.

And then the rest of the week decided to join the party. Chewy hits on July 10 for $89, and Kitty Poo Club is shipping the same day for another $91. Pet essentials — no negotiating. You can’t delay food, and you certainly can’t run out of litter. That would be the feline version of me running out of toilet paper. Absolutely not happening.

Meanwhile, the Postal Service is raising Forever stamps on July 12. Naturally. Add it to the pile.

Good thing I still have a stash of Christmas Forever stamps from back when they were around 45¢. My tiny inflation win for the week.

Well… it is what it is. At least I stocked up on toilet paper last week.