Whitewashed

  

For the past 24 hours, the great State of Maine, and most of New England for that matter, has been facing whiteout conditions from an East Coast storm that has stranded millions of travelers and left many of us searching for the right four-letter words to describe Old Man Winter's vengeance.

Snow totals around the state range from 12 to 25 inches, and the wind continues to howl at around 40 to 50 mph. These are dangerous conditions, but skiers from Sunday River to Lost Valley are rejoicing now that the hills are drenched in white with sound of blizzard conditions.

And for the last six hours, my trusty snow shovel and I have gotten reacquainted with each other. But thanks to those tree-toppling winds, the roof on my house has been swept clean of snow, which means no roof raking.

The wood stove is cooking, the coffee is steaming hot and a can of tongue-burning soup goes a long way to stifling the chill in my bones after wrestling with the frigid elements that have been wreaking havoc on the good citizens of Maine.

But this neighborhood contains several good Samaritans, who don't mind steering their snow-eating blowers toward my buried driveways and clear away heavy snow that would take hours to remove with a shovel.

They are fine human beings who make wonderful, compassionate neighbors.  For their generosity and the cost of gas, they receive bags vegetables from my ample garden during the summer months. And on some occasions, they are rewarded with a six pack of dark beer from one of Maine's finest breweries. No domestic stuff for them.

But wait, there's more when it comes to winters in Maine.

it is only December, and although winter has already reared its ugly head, January and February are still the harshest months in winter-whipped Maine - a state where spring takes forever to arrive and the state's beautiful summers are just too damn short.

Two years ago, we had over 100 inches of the white stuff laying on the ground. I know winter is not done with me, but I am ready and now armed with a homemade snow scoop.

This treasured snow scoop, which is now included in my snow-fighting arsenal, was given to me by one of my good neighbors.

The scoop runs on human energy, and pushing this red iron monster is like trying to move a stalled Sherman tank through the mud during the invasion of Normandy.

But I am ready for winter, so let's see what you've got - Old Man!


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A woman of substance

We didn't know what to think of each other when we first met 21 years ago. We were from two different worlds, but over the next decade, Dorothy Millett and I would find common ground - at the kitchen table.

I was a boisterous and an opinionated young man who didn't mind speaking his mind. Dorothy Millett was a 67-year-old widow who didn't say much over the phone whenever I called to speak with Terri. She was abrupt, and I felt short-changed because our conversations amounted to just a few words - and she was about to become my mother-in-law.

It wasn't until our numerous lunch dates in Dot's kitchen was when I really got to know this extraordinary woman, who could take whatever was left in the hallway pantry and turn it into a gourmet meal.

I knew she wasn't sure who the heck this guy from the Boston area was and whether his intentions to marry her daughter were honorable and true.

I just thought she didn't like me!

And yet, despite a few rounds of haggling over our wedding plans, Dorothy Millett and I eventually stopped eye-balling each other and grew to like and then love each other despite our differences.

But Dorothy and I were united by a common interest - our love for Terri, who made us both feel special because she is such a special person.

And I came to appreciate her Yankee ingenuity in the kitchen and her old-fashioned horse sense when it came to life's problems. She knew how to simplify life's curve balls in a world that has a knack for complicating everything. She was, in my opinion, a leading authority on common sense. She, along with my mother, became my inspirations in the kitchen, too.

Of course, Dot's culinary talents went a long way to winning me over and making me feel right at home in her humble abode. She knew the fastest way to reaching me was through my stomach, and as a growing young man, who could say no to her culinary delights.

I often told her that we should open "Dot's Kitchen,' and added we could make a fortune because she was such a genius with the average recipe.

A free meal at Dot's dining room was like hitting the lottery or winning Sox tickets to a game on hot August day at Fenway Park.

But what was really remarkable about this woman, who had the stamina of a 40 year old and whose mind was still sharp, was that she had the nerve to adopt a child in her 50s and raise her in a safe and loving household without any fanfare.

And while she was bringing up Terri, this unselfish, civic-minded woman, who was also active in her church, still found time to improve other people's lives in her community.

I have had nothing but respect for Dorothy Millett, who always asked for my mother and father and took a vested interest in my son.

She was one of those human beings who played a huge role in the lives of two people trying to find their way in the world.

I will miss her, and her absence means life will never be the same for Terri and me, and that is why Dorothy Millett's passing is such a huge loss to her family and friends.

Dorothy's death, while not unexpected, has nonetheless left us all feeling empty.

I will miss Dorothy Millett for a number of reasons.

I offer the Millett family this written tribute to a woman whose common sense and integrity were beyond reproach.

My deepest condolences to all who knew this fine woman.

Lego robotics

AUGUSTA, MAINE - Intricate robots made of Legos were put through a battery of tests as junior high students watched their creations perform difficult tasks in a certain amount of time under the watchful eyes of enthusiastic judges and dedicated teachers.

Last weekend, a crowd of nearly a 1,000 creative students and dedicated parents and teachers participated in the Lego League Championship at the Augusta Civic Center.

Students spent months programming these unique robots with computers to get these technological marvels ready for competition.

Students who participate in this after-school program are given the opportunity to use Legos to build these remarkable robots. Computers are employed to program these incredible creations.

Call it teaching outside the box.

My son became a Lego fanatic years ago, and he still constructs amazing battleships using these plastic building blocks.

When he heard about the after-school program, he jumped at the chance to join the team.

Last year, he decided to join the program to work with a team of students at Auburn Middle School. Students learn the in and outs of programming as well as design of robots. It is a lot of work and it takes patience, creativity and team work.

My son participates year-round and then moves on to solar-powered cars competition in the spring.

There is no question a program like this can steer students toward careers in computers and engineering while they are having the time of their lives making these things work.

Jim Rowe, a dedicated and passionate teacher, oversees the Lego and solar-powered cars competition. He is a man of infinite patience who also teaches shop at the school. He is a resourceful educator who takes a genuine interest in each of his students. Rowe is a one-man show who organizes these students into a team and guides them as their robots come to fruition

Watching these students build this robot from the ground up is eye-opening. My son's team, "The Seventh Sense," performed well enough to earn an award in programming.

Their success is a tribute to their ingenuity and diligence, and to a teacher who goes the distance for his students.

The gift

It was subtle act of kindness that brought great tidings of joy to a family of three during a season where everybody is enveloped by the holiday rush and all its madness.

The person responsible for providing this rare holiday magic without any fanfare was a gentleman who I see once a year for a 30 minutes each December. He is a hard-working man whose kind eyes and sincerity make him a memorable human being. He also understands that times are tough and families are trying to weather a withering recession.

Each Christmas, this man, who is unforgettable even though I inexcusably forget his name, hauls his trees from up north and sets up shop in Auburn, Maine, to sell his fine pine trees and make Christmas a lot more merry for his clientele.  But it really doesn't matter that we don't know each other by name because we figured out long ago what is really important in our lives.

He is the kind of guy who shakes your hand and adds a "God bless you" before you leave the lot with a tree sticking out of your trunk. And he means it, and that is why it is a privilege to purchase a tree from this honest man each season.

Over the years, we often had these brief but intense conversations about our children and how much we love them. We both understand the importance of raising children even though we have only spent about 30 minutes each year on a cold December afternoon discussing our priorities and loyalty to our family

This December was no different as we were greeted by his warm smile, and of course, one of his first questions was how my son was getting on in life. His considerate inquiries about my son made our quick seasonal encounters enjoyable, because my family is my lifeline and he obviously feels the same about his brood. While my wife, Terri, is the foundation in our home, Anthony is the centerpiece of our lives.

I asked him how he was doing as I checked my wallet for some cash when I was surprised to learn I didn't have enough money to cover the cost of purchasing the tree. He overheard me talking to my wife, and he asked me if I had a problem with money. I told him I was fine, but that I had to visit an ATM and rushed off in the car.

Now I know he would have worked something out if I could not have afforded one of his fine trees. He is that kind of rare human being who is not solely motivated by profit. 

When I returned to the lot, we walked up and down looking for a narrow tree to fit into our small parlor.

We made our decision after much discussion. The employee gave the tree a fresh cut. I reached for my wallet to pay for the $22.00 tree. He told me $15.00 would work for him. My eyes widened. I wasn't looking for a bargain because I know this family works hard to bring these majestic trees to market.

I asked him if he was sure about this last-minute offer. He smiled and said it was fine. We again spoke about my son before I rushed home to put our prized tree in the house.

Sure, the $7.00 would not break his bank account or make me any richer. It was the thought that counted. I gratefully shook his hand and wished him Merry Christmas.

My wife was stunned when I told her about this simple act of kindness. 

We both knew it wasn't about the money.

It was about one man's benevolence during a holiday that is supposed be about giving.