For the city kids who didn’t get to play soccer, tennis, basketball, or track and field at the Melnea Cass Recreational Complex in Roxbury all spring, it’s probably tough to understand that the reason is because a bunch of adults almost 500 miles away can’t get their act together. They’d likely be similarly confused to learn that their fieldhouse became a shelter for dozens of vulnerable kids who came to America because adults in their native countries couldn’t get it right there either.

When I lived in Roxbury while attending law school, after becoming the first in my family to graduate high school and college, I played ball at Washington Park (also known as Malcom X Park), usually the only white guy, and probably with the dads of some of the kids barred from the Cass complex the last few months, before it finally reopened last week.

Before that, I was an inner-city kid myself with limited access to sports facilities, and even fewer avenues out of what was then, and remains, one of the most impoverished and dangerous neighborhoods in America.

So the Cass complex’s conversion to a migrant shelter really hit home.

I recently visited Yuma, Arizona, where I was stationed during my time as a U.S. Marine Judge Advocate, to witness the problem firsthand. The crisis I saw there, which is hurting working families here in Massachusetts, is two-fold: national security and humanitarian.

As much as 50% of the fentanyl tearing apart our communities comes through Yuma, Arizona. Not only is Washington’s inability to solve this crisis hurting those who already live in America, but the migrants being trafficked alongside it are also at risk. Asylum seekers hoping for a better life in the U.S. face a treacherous journey at the hands of the cartels. Women and children are raped or abused by traffickers who don’t care if they survive.

Congressional inability to address the serious problems facing this country is no longer a theoretical exercise or a punchline; it’s harming our kids’ development and quality of life. In Massachusetts, we see other tangible impacts. Governor Maura Healey has projected the emergency shelter program will cost nearly $1 billion next fiscal year, in addition to $700 million already spent this year, while our state’s one-party leaders have implored their counterparts in Washington – like Senator Elizabeth Warren – to address this exploding crisis.

What else could that $1.7 billion be doing in Massachusetts? How about repairing our roads and transit system, in such dangerous disrepair? Or ameliorating the educational crisis? In Boston, our kids aren’t just losing access to the Cass complex; the school district itself is teetering on receivership.

Do you think the rest of the state might benefit from $1.7 billion to help combat an upswing in violent crime? In 2022, the most recent year for which federal data is available, violent crime in Massachusetts rose, while dropping nationwide. Some of the alleged perpetrators made their way into Massachusetts by claiming to be refugees before committing violent crimes. Police departments, diversion programs, substance abuse and recovery efforts – all of these could benefit from precious state funds now being funneled into a problem that Washington created and refuses to fix.

Working families are suffering because of Washington dysfunction, and no amount of press releases, viral videos, or soundbites will fix that. Nor will new taxes from cannabis, gambling, or millionaires.

That’s a big reason I’m running against Senator Warren this year; it’s not just that Washington is broken, it’s that Washington is breaking great states like Massachusetts. Senator Warren voted against the bipartisan border legislation, voting with MAGA Republicans to sink the bill at the cost of her own constituents. Even worse, Senator Warren is talking out of both sides of her mouth on the issue.

This is the problem with Washington politicians – on both sides of the aisle. They become beholden to the special interest groups who exact outlandish policy promises to help them win primaries while red and blue states become even more polarized. It’s a cynical way to run a country, and those who have become a part of it should examine whether they’ve stayed true to their promise to voters.

I am running to be your senator to stand up for the poor and middle class. I have fought for the underdog my entire life, and I’ll do the same in the Senate. This era of gridlock and cynicism has to end.

The kids who run and play ball at the Cass complex don’t deserve to lose another season.

John Deaton is a Republican candidate for U.S. Senate and an attorney specializing in representing asbestos victims suffering from mesothelioma.

(CNN)– Uber and Lyft are hailing a settlement they reached in a lawsuit against them by the state of Massachusetts.

They’re agreeing to pay their drivers a minimum wage of $32.50 an hour.

Rideshare drivers will also be provided with benefits under the agreement.

Those include paid sick leave based on the number of hours worked, healthcare stipends, and occupational accident insurance.

The companies will also pay a combines total of $175 million to the state.

The money resolves claims Uber and Lyft violated the state’s labor laws.

Yes, I know that joke. I know them all. Athol makes people giggle like schoolchildren who think they’ve heard a naughty word. After Belchertown, Athol probably ranks as one of Massachusetts’s most unpleasantly named towns. If you’re still not hearing it, touch your tongue to the palate of your mouth and say, “Athol.”

I knew my hometown was named after a village in Scotland called Blair Atholl (two lls is Scottish Atholl, and one l is the Massachusetts Athol). But until this year, I had no idea how beautiful Blair Atholl is or that it has a 700-year-old castle. There is even a Duke of Atholl who commands Europe’s only officially sanctioned private army. Who’s laughing now, Wellesley? Anything to say for yourself, Dover, or Newton? Sure, Athol may be one of the poorest towns in Massachusetts, and our high school ranks 239th out of the state’s 351 public high schools (I am a somewhat proud and semi-literate graduate of Athol Regional High School). But we’re named after a village with Britain’s second tallest tree. So take that, Brookline!

My visit to Blair Atholl was a happy accident. I was on vacation in April, beginning with a few days in Glasgow. I drove north to Inverness to explore the Highlands and then southwest to Edinburgh. Halfway between Inverness and Edinburgh, I spotted a sign for Atholl on the highway. My husband, Alex, turned to me and said, “We’re stopping, right?” It was a rhetorical question.

Cut to 30 minutes later, and we’re pulling into the parking area of Blair Castle & Estates. We were surrounded by sheep-dotted hills and acres of manicured gardens. I was beginning to think that this Atholl contained an extra “l” to denote that it’s lovelier than Athol, Mass. Because it was April, every inch of grass was over-saturated Technicolor green, and the sheep seemed extra plump. The setting was heavenly.

Before exploring the castle, I headed to the Hercules Garden, which dates back to the 18th century and was carefully restored in the 1980s. Even though few flowers were blooming, and the fruit trees were just beginning to bud, the gardens, sculptures, and duck-filled ponds were charming. In an alternate universe, this is the Atholl where I would have grown up, not the Athol with a lake my sister and I lovingly referred to as Dead Man’s Pond.

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After an hour, the stop in Blair Atholl became much more than a novelty. It was a place I would enjoy visiting no matter what the village was called. Had I not grown up in Athol, there’s a good chance I wouldn’t have stopped here and experienced Blair Castle.

I later discovered that the 9-acre Hercules Garden that I was smitten with was being laid out at the same time that Athol, Mass., was being named. Before British settlers arrived in North America, the Nipmuc Nation Tribe already had a name for the region: Pequoiag. However, when the town was incorporated in 1762, John Murray, a politician and native of Blair Atholl, chose the name Athol because the rolling hills reminded him of his Scottish hometown. Murray was reported to be a distant cousin of the Duke of Atholl. So, a cousin of royalty bestowed Athol with its name. Very classy.

Or so I thought.

As it turns out, Murray was neither noble nor royal. He was given the paperwork to register the town’s name as Paxton, not Athol. He took it upon himself to change it. Why? Because he was a slippery, duplicitous miscreant. Another town in Worcester County got the name Paxton. We got stuck with Athol.

“He was a scoundrel,” said state Representative Susannah Whipps, an independent from Athol whose family has lived in the town for seven generations. “John Murray was a loyalist, and he got chased out of Massachusetts because he sided with the British during the Revolutionary War.”

When news of Murray’s disloyalty to the Colonies and continued love of the Crown became known, a mob of hundreds gathered at his home. According to records in the Loyalist Collection at the University of New Brunswick in Fredericton, he fled to Boston. All of his property was seized, and he was banished to Canada. In 1780, the Massachusetts General Assembly denounced him as a traitor.

“He was a shyster, a real shady character. So this might change your entire story,” Whipps said, sensing my disappointment at the news. “I would hate for you to write about Athol with this great sense of nobility. Maybe we’re still paying John Murray’s debt of dishonesty with the name. Also, I don’t want you to give us a better reputation than we actually deserve. I kind of like the scandal of it.”

Murray’s face appears on Athol’s official town seal. A traitor who could be best described as “odious” is Athol’s founding father. That’s one way to look at it.

But I prefer to think of Athol and its direct connection to the beauty of Scotland. In 1703, Queen Anne created the title Duke of Atholl, and in 1844, Queen Victoria granted the duke permission to raise Europe’s only legal private army (the unit had previously disbanded). The army, called the Atholl Highlanders, is still active today, although it’s purely ceremonial and is best known for its bagpipers. The Highlanders have marched in Athol twice and are coming back in April 2025 to celebrate Athol’s famed River Rat parade, along with traveling to perform in New York City and Washington, D.C.

The current Duke of Atholl doesn’t reside in Blair Castle; he lives in South Africa, but the 30-room castle is open for viewing. You can tour the ornate structure (tickets to tour the castle and gardens are $22) or take a whiskey tour to learn about Blair Castle’s illicit distilling past and sample some hooch (tickets are $75). If you fall in love with the castle and surrounding area the way I did, you can even stay at the Atholl Estates. There are lodges, cabins, and huts available. You can also camp there.

The walls of the 755-year-old castle are filled with portraits of past dukes, earls, viscounts, lords, ladies, and marquesses. An audio tour, which you can download before visiting, explains hundreds of years of history and rooms of well-curated artifacts. I’m not a descendant of the Duke of Atholl, but I felt a kinship walking through the castle.

This is where it all began for humble Athol. All giggling aside, if my hometown was going to be named after a location on Earth, I’m glad it was this beautiful place.

Christopher Muther can be reached at christopher.muther@globe.com. Follow him @Chris_Muther and Instagram @chris_muther.