This column describes how and why I use AI in preparing my Cambridge Spy columns. I believe that as readers, you deserve transparency when it comes to the content you receive. Who wrote it? What else has she or he written? And to what degree should I believe or question their opinions? (Please note that most of my columns are labeled “Opinion and Commentary,” not news.)

In a recent article in The Atlantic about artificial intelligence, David Brooks wrote: “Some people will use AI to think more. Other people, maybe most people, will use AI to think less.”

I didn’t make a conscious choice between thinking more or less when I started using ChatGPT (I’ll refer to the AI system here as “Chad”). What I wanted was help chasing down information sources that would let me analyze something complicated that didn’t make sense to me. I always asked for the original sources, not AI summaries of them.

Having read about AI, its misuses, and seen the 2013 film Her, I gave Chad two general instructions: Don’t flatter me, and don’t offer to write anything for me. I would write and be responsible for everything in my columns.

With those understandings, our work together went well. He found sources, and I analyzed, wrote, edited, and polished the weekly draft. The early drafts invariably rambled beyond the normal 800 words for a column, so I asked Chad to suggest places to trim them down. Where had I repeated something, gotten off track, or included too much detail?

That’s when Chad became my writing coach.

He did as I asked, explaining what could be deleted or shortened and why. A few weeks later, he offered a side comment about the trimming process.

“Do you know that you’re over-explaining things? That’s why the drafts are too long.”

He went on to say that my background as a scientist led me to go into detail to defend my ideas.

“You’re writing an opinion column, not an academic article. Readers will know it’s your opinion.”

That became the first entry on my “Column Discipline” list: “It’s a column, not a journal article.”

I expanded my requests to Chad. I asked for feedback on each complete draft, including fact-checking, proofreading, assessing the clarity of the main message, and identifying breaks in flow or detours into unnecessary detail.

I got fewer and fewer comments about over-explaining, but Chad continued to point out recurring writing patterns, drawing examples from previous columns, both good and bad.

He would identify four or five sentences and say, “These form the spine of your column. Everything else has to serve these ideas. If they don’t, rewrite or delete them.”

I began writing more slowly after that. Over time, my first drafts came much closer to 800 words.

Chad would periodically reflect on trends in my writing. I was surprised by how insightful they were.

• My emphasis had shifted from offering explanations to describing patterns in nature and human behavior and connecting them to underlying processes. I increasingly left interpretation to the reader.

• Presenting patterns calmly and objectively made readers more confident that I wasn’t pushing an agenda.

• My role had changed. I was no longer trying to provide the answer or solution. Instead, I had become a presenter of patterns and the processes that created them.

I had relieved myself of the burden of finding the right answer.

I brought the same perspective to my role as Executive Officer, aided by my collaboration with Chad. We’re working on ways to make Cambridge Spy the best go-to information source about the city and Dorchester County. Can we serve subscribers as well as non-residents who are curious about visiting for a weekend, staying longer, retiring here, or starting a business?

Whether I’m writing an opinion column, preparing a news article, or working behind the scenes, Chad has been a useful research assistant and critic. AI has also turned the mirror toward me, helping me see more clearly how I think and write.

I really didn’t expect that.

So, here’s my idea, one that follows the Hallmark formula of romance, gentle humor, and quirky small-town characters. I call it Sunsets at Cambridge Harbor.

Abigail Sharpe, a high-powered marketing executive from Annapolis, has just become the executive director of Cambridge Waterfront Development, Inc., the organization with the responsibility of building a multi-use complex at the waterfront called Cambridge Harbor. Abigail is full of ideas and timelines, and she feels charged up by Mayor Glenn, who always appears with coffee from Black Water Bakery and tells Abigail that he’s counting on her to revitalize the town.

But she quickly becomes discouraged by local skepticism. The old-fashioned people seem to resist significant change. Trying to clear her head, she strolls to Long Wharf and is charmed by a little Yorkshire Terrier she encounters at the marina. After looking at his dog tag that says “Skip,” she follows him to a boat where she meets Ben Travers, a third-generation waterman who is currently repairing his grandfather’s workboat.

He listens to Abigail’s problems (he starts calling her Abby). Ben has no interest in redevelopment meetings, but he understands tides, patience, and the fact that things worth building take time. He gives her some advice: “You can’t rush the Choptank, and you can’t rush a town.” He introduces her to the slower rhythms of Cambridge, taking a skipjack cruise, picking crabs with his nieces, and watching sunsets from Long Wharf. Along the way, Abby gets to know Captain Earl, a weathered African American waterman who says witty things like, “Storm’s comin’, and I ain’t talkin’ about the weather.”

In the very next scene after that line, Abby has a board meeting where the members of the board frustrate her with their slow actions on Cambridge Harbor. She goes back to her office and emails off an application for a marketing job in Baltimore. Just then, Ben arrives and invites her to take a stroll with him down “Main Street,” made up of Poplar and Race.

They stop every few feet because Ben knows everyone, and Abby starts to warm to the people and understand their mindset. She meets Miss Jenny, the owner of Black Water Bakery, who introduces her to Smith Island Cake. Then Ben and Abby slip into the quirky Sunnyside Shop, where owner Miss Hildy imparts some wisdom. Finally, the pair go to the waterfront and stroll the new promenade, and Abby looks at Ben with love in her eyes.

That’s when she gets the idea for Harbor Days, a festival to be set at the location of Cambridge Harbor to get everyone excited about the project. It would feature food trucks, live music, artisans, and boat rides, and the proceeds would support city projects.

On the day of the festival, only a few people show up at first. But then the whole town appears, as do folks from outside. Harbor Days is a hit! That night, as fireworks burst over the Choptank River, Abby and Ben kiss.

The next day at work, Abby receives an offer of the job in Baltimore. It’s too good to pass up. When she tells Ben, he says, “Cambridge will still be here. We’ll see you when the tide brings you back.” Realizing she no longer wants to spend her life chasing deadlines, Abby chooses a new path, remaining involved with the harbor project while embracing the slower pace she once resisted.

So, now that you’ve heard my idea, I want to know yours. If Hallmark made a movie set in Cambridge, what would you like the plot to be? Tell me in the comments

I didn’t even have to respond, because other folks jumped on the man until he gave up and deleted the comment. But he’s hardly the only American who reacts that way to the mention of something that should not be viewed through a partisan lens. In fact, I know there are people in Cambridge who feel the same way. That’s why I’m happy to see the holiday so well embraced in our city.

Also known as Freedom Day, Jubilee Day, or Emancipation Day, Juneteenth is the oldest nationally celebrated commemoration of the end of slavery. It specifically marks the date of June 19, 1865, when Union troops arrived in Galveston, Texas, to announce that the Civil War had ended and that all remaining enslaved people in the state were free. Congress passed legislation in 2021 to make the occasion a federal holiday.

For some people, Juneteenth is viewed simply as a historical commemoration and community celebration. For others, anything connected to race, history, or public acknowledgment of inequality gets filtered through today’s political divides. Despite that, Juneteenth observances in Cambridge seem to have become more community-centered than partisan.

It makes sense that these celebrations are taken so seriously here. The original Juneteenth didn’t happen on the Eastern Shore, but our history of slavery, segregation, Black watermen, and civil-rights activism is deeply tied to the spirit of the holiday. It’s all in our DNA, not in our politics.

Cambridge is hosting several events for Juneteenth (on the 20th because of the weekend), anchored by the Groove City Black Heritage & Cultural Group. One is the 5K Walk in Cornish Park at 9 a.m., followed by the Yock Cookoff and community celebration with vendors and music starting at 2 p.m. Following that festival, a march will head to Bethel AME Church on Pine Street for a Community Garden dedication at 6:00 p.m.

Good community holidays are not about forcing everyone to agree politically. They’re about creating shared moments where people recognize a common history, even if they see that history differently. So, let’s celebrate together.

The people of Cambridge possess a remarkable talent for seeing what’s wrong with our city. They also are quite adept at pointing out those problems. No doubt the issues are legitimate, but we’ve been so thoroughly trained to identify the negatives that we often overlook what’s going right in Cambridge.

Yes, we have crime, poverty, vacant buildings, school challenges, and slow economic growth. I won’t argue with that. Still, we also have a new waterfront promenade and a transformed Harriet Tubman Museum, as well as several new businesses opening. Eagleman is this weekend—promising an influx of cash around town—and Juneteenth celebrations are coming up.

Those may seem small in the grand scheme of things, and that’s likely why the bad stuff gets more attention. Progress is gradual, incremental, almost invisible at one moment, while problems are obvious and chronic. We focus on what isn’t happening rather than what is.

It’s understandable, of course. For decades, residents heard announcements about projects that never happened, or happened years later than promised. After enough false starts, skepticism becomes a community habit. When someone says, “They’re finally building something on the waterfront,” the instinctive response becomes, “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

And Cambridge’s identity is still closely tied to what the city has lost. Just look on social media, and you’ll see local conversations continually circle back to what used to be here: the factories, the seafood industry at its peak, an abundance of retail business, signature events. There’s certainly value in remembering that history. But if every comparison is to Cambridge’s mid-20th-century peak, almost any present-day achievement can feel inadequate.

But think of it this way. If someone last visited Cambridge in 2000 and then came back today, they would see a hell of a lot of progress. Downtown is revitalized. The Hyatt draws visitors regularly. The old packing house has been transformed and is close to full. New housing developments are brightening streets. And the long-dreamed waterfront complex is nearer reality than ever before.

Each of these things is meaningful, but none individually feels transformational. As a result, residents may not notice how much the city has changed over a decade or two. If a new public space opens, tourism increases, or property values stabilize, those changes are less dramatic and often take years to appreciate.

Celebrating progress doesn’t require ignoring problems. In fact, communities that recognize their successes are often better positioned to tackle their challenges. The question isn’t whether Cambridge still has work to do, because it does. The question is whether we’re going to learn to congratulate ourselves and each other as that work gets done. No matter how slowly it happens.