Goodfellows52: 'Tis the season to appreciate your family

Goodfellows52: 'Tis the season to appreciate your family: I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. ~ Charles Dickens AUBURN, Maine — Whenever they walk thro...

'Tis the season to appreciate your family

I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year.  ~ Charles Dickens

AUBURN, Maine — Whenever they walk through the door at the end of a day, I know I am one lucky SOB, and I don’t need a holiday to remind me of my precious family. For me, it is the most wonderful time of the year — all year long.

Losing loved ones and friends have taught us all that there is no certainty in life and our small worlds often change in a heartbeat when tragedy strikes. Nobody is here forever and time has a way of whittling down the herd.

But I see no harm in celebrating Christmas — a holiday that forces friends and family to take a timeout from multi-tasking and sit at a dinner table together without the distraction of computers and cell phones.

No Facebook, Twitter, or My Space! When we gather at the dinner table, face-to-face conversations begin — and no topic is taboo. Discussions about sports, religion or the morons who run Congress turn into a war of words as we look into the whites of our eyes. It’s not pretty, but it beats texting or posting nonsense on a social media Web site. There is nothing like a heated discussion at the dinner table. It’s pass the ham and fire off fusillade of acerbic opinions during Christmas dinner.

If you find a way to ignore the commercialism and pressure of emptying your wallet to outspend your family members for gifts, Christmas is a great excuse to sit on the sofa, watch Clarence set George Bailey straight and recover from a tryptophan high from the turkey. It also allows me to ponder the more important questions about “It’s a Wonderful Life.” I always wondered why Clarence didn't kick Potter’s butt all around the county for being so underhanded.

For me, Christmas and all the trimmings makes me realize that I was lucky enough to spend another year with my wife and son. The yuletide is also a not-so subtle reminder that there will come a day when our gatherings will cease.

With 1 and 6 Americans swelling the ranks of the poor, I feel fortunate and guilty at the same time for having enough money to cook a turkey and shrimp linguine for my family. There are gifts under the tree, food on the table and heat in the house. 

I am damn lucky.

I am not an Ebenezer wannabe who saw this holiday as a humbug before a bunch of ghosts ganged up on the old sourpuss. What’s wrong with throwing up a tree and turning your house into a giant neon sign, anyway? Presents are welcomed and a belly full of turkey and an endless stream of pies give me a damn good excuse to make merry on this day.

For years, I travelled down the Maine turnpike to visit my parents and get together with nearly two dozen people on Christmas Eve. It was an event I looked forward to every year until my mother died and my father found out he had Alzheimer's - a cruel disease that is slowly and agonizingly destroying his mind. Over the years, death has whittled down my list of friends and family.

So I decided to remain in Maine and enjoy a quiet holiday. I haven’t stayed at home during Christmas in years, and I don’t miss the two-hour ride to Boston.

The next two days will be spent exchanging presents and eating good food on a cold winter mornings in front of a wood stove heated by ash wood that was given to me from a generous neighbor. I will chop wood, cook a big breakfast and large dinner — just the three of us on Christmas Day.

And when the tree comes down and the holiday lights are packed away, the memories of another loving Christmas with my son and wife will see me through the new year.

Goodfellows52: It's beginning to look like insanity

Goodfellows52: It's beginning to look like insanity: Our tree, outdoor lights and Anthony and Terri make three. “ The best Christmas of all is the presence of a happy family all ...

It's beginning to look like insanity

Our tree, outdoor lights and Anthony and Terri make three.

“The best Christmas of all is the presence of a happy family all wrapped up with one another.”

- author unknown

AUBURN, Maine — The warning signs began appearing just before Halloween.

I didn't notice the first few clues of impending mayhem as I meandered around the aisles. But there they were there, right in front of my face.I figured all that madness was still a month and a half away.

When Halloween passed, that's when all hell broke loose!

Perhaps it was in the dead of night and under the cover of darkness when retailers gave the order to remove all Halloween decorations and replace them with trinkets of good cheer.

Thanksgiving was about to take a back seat to the craziest holiday of all — Christmas.

After all, Christmas was ONLY 55 days away, and there was not a moment to lose when battering consumers with good cheer. Thanks to greed, commercialism and capitalism run amok, the most wonderful time of year has become an orgy of spending.

For nearly 60 days, blatant reminders are in your face 24-7. It always begins with a just few aisles featuring Christmas decorations before all department stores reach Defcon 5, which is a level of commercial readiness that would keep the U.S. Marines on their toes. Stores go right to work ambushing customers with deals on toys, clothes and appliances.

Thanksgiving has become the gateway holiday to the most ludicrous day of all — Black Friday — a day that usually lives in infamy. Stuffed and groggy consumers rise early and venture into the night to shove aside or mace their fellow man to muscle their way in line to buy a flat-screen TV. Christmas cheer turns into jeers as herds of shoppers wait in the cold for the doors to open. They can act like lunatics during a shopping frenzy that would make any serial killer turn around and walk out the door.

The push-and-shove conflict erupts in departments stores across the U.S. and garners nationwide TV coverage. For me, it is one of those "who gives a damn" stories that dominates the news cycle for 24 hours. And it gives network cheerleaders an excuse to report that the nation has clawed its way out of this endless depression. Of course, we all know that is not true.

But all this shopping hijinks is a pleasant distraction from a planet in peril and the bunch of fools who screwed up Congress.

I avoid all stores at all costs on this particular day. I would be a no-show even if stores were giving away their products. The last thing I want to do after stuffing my face with turkey is get up at 3 a.m. and have a throw-down with ravenous consumers in the middle of a congested mall.

Black Friday is also TV's and radio's cue to begin working over consumers with 30 days of Christmas music and specials that make me want to take my chances with the Ghost of Christmas future. I search the radio dial in vain to find a rock-and-roll song. Eric Clapton's "I feel free" works for me.

But I do not subscribe to Scrooge's warped thinking. He was one SOB before three ghosts took the old man out for walk and scared the living crap out of him.

There is a beautiful tree taking up most of my parlor and outdoor Christmas lights illuminating cold winter nights. So I won't need a visit from Jacob Marley to convince me about the importance of this holiday.

For me, Christmas is a celebration of family and an opportunity share some time with those who are still here. All the hoopla surrounding this holiday is like the trimmings on a Christmas tree. For many Americans who are unemployed or lost loved ones, this is not the most wonderful time of year. There are empty seats at the dinner table, and many of us are celebrating the holiday with a skimpy dinner that Bob Cratchit would find impossible to enjoy.

All this good cheer and hope lasts a mere 30 days, and then we all jump back into the rat race. We quickly pack away decorations and throw out the tree, acting like nothing ever happened.

But I can't help wondering why we all can't keep this frame of mind throughout the year. Why only 30 days? How about making it a full 365 for the greater good? Why does all this goodwill toward men suddenly disappear?

Dickens had it right when he wrote: "and it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God Bless Us, Every One!"

And oh by the way — Merry Christmas.

Goodfellows52: A state with a glorious history

Goodfellows52: A state with a glorious history: The menacing Gatling gun at the Maine Historical Society in Augusta. Muskets used during the American Revolution. Another view o...

A state with a glorious history

The menacing Gatling gun at the Maine Historical Society in Augusta.

Muskets used during the American Revolution.

Another view of the menacing Gatling gun at the Maine Historical Society in Augusta.

Union colonel Joshua Chamberlain's revolver is on display.

A make-shift Maine cannon is on display.

Water-cooled machine guns line the wall at the Maine Historical Society.

A Hotchkiss cannon is a featured piece at the Society

A Japanese mountain Howitzer is an eye-opener. There is hole in the protective shield that was pierced by an American shell, killing the gun crew.

A Lewis machine gun, featured the movie, "The Sand Pebbles," is now a museum artifact.

My wife and son stand under a Huey helicopter, the perfect symbol of the Vietnam War, is mounted just outside the Maine Military Historical Society.

My wife and I stand next to a battle tank at Camp Keyes.

"History, despite its wrenching pain, cannot be unlived, but if faced with courage, need not be lived again."

Maya Angelou

AUGUSTA — We have read about these devastating weapons of the past in library books, but we never thought we would find ourselves staring down the barrels of a Gatlin gun or Hotchkiss cannon.

These were the weapons of their day, wreaking havoc on battlefields across the world, and here we were, getting up close and personal with hundreds wartime museum pieces, which are on display at the Maine Military Historical Society. The area is crowded with donated relics from wars involving Mainers who put it all on the line for their country. There are displays of artifacts from each war Mainers have served in since America's independence.

The Society is located next to Augusta Airport and Camp Keyes where a mounted Huey helicopter — the perfect symbol of the Vietnam war — stands outside the doors. The unique historical society is only open the first Sunday of the month for four hours, but appointments can be made to visit the site.

When you step through the door, a polished army jeep from World War II sits off to the right. Across from this rugged jeep rests a menacing Gatlin gun, which was used to train Maine troops during World War II. Although it was obsolete by the turn of the 20th Century, Mainers trained on the vintage gun to prepare for war as hostilities spread across the globe in 1941.

The American Revolution War section features muskets used in combat and other memorabilia from a conflict that opened the door to freedom for Americans eager make their own way in the world without King George III calling the shots.

Civil war artifacts include Union colonel Joshua Chamberlain's six-shot revolver and a handful of rifles used during the Civil War. Chamberlain's heroic bayonet charge down Little Round Top during the battle of Gettysburg is remembered at the Historical Society.

The French-made Hotchkiss cannon, with its narrow barrow mounted on two large carriage wheels, is small but packed a punch with its .42-caliber shell. The cannon was first used in the American Indian and Spanish American wars.

There is also a display of various water-cooled machine guns, including the Colt and Maxim machine guns. There are also  tank-killing guns and a captured Japanese mountain howitzer. There is a hole in the howitzer's protective shield that was pierced by an American shell and killed the cannon's crew.

But astute visitors will realize that the Maine Military Historical Society deserves more than a large room to pay homage to Mainers who went to war for their country.

Goodfellows52: Can't thank them enough

Goodfellows52: Can't thank them enough: Mom and son getting ready for Halloween. " To grow old is to lose everything," - the opening line to a poem called "Affirmation,"...

Can't thank them enough

Mom and son getting ready for Halloween.

"To grow old is to lose everything," 

- the opening line to a poem called "Affirmation," which was written 

by poet Donald Hall

AUBURN, Mass. — Money is tight, the world is a damn mess, our leaders don't know what day it is, and there is a pile of snow on my front lawn that is really pissing me off, and yet, I do have a lot to be thankful for as I pass the peas and gnaw on a turkey leg this Thanksgiving.

And while Mother Nature's hit-and-run tactics are befuddling and the cold is closing in, I am lucky there will be a hot meal on the table and my healthy son and wife will be seated next me as we enjoy my sister's fine cooking and the company of her wonderful children.

I am older and I have lost a handful people along the way, and the holidays have a way of triggering those strong and sad memories of family members and friends who will not be present at our feast this Thanksgiving.

And it really hurts, especially since Terri and I buried our mothers last year. That pain never goes away, but when I see my wife and son laughing and enjoying good food, it makes me realize why I am still here, and I don't plan on going anywhere.

For years, my dad and I would spend Thanksgiving mornings watching Revere and Winthrop knock heads on the gridiron while my mom was multi-tasking over a hot stove long before anyone knew what the hell multi-tasking was. She was cooking turkey, potatoes, carrots and stuffing while father and son were freezing their butts off at Paul Revere Stadium.

I am older now and now I am doing the cooking. My dad and I no longer attend Thanksgiving Day football games because he is older. My mother is gone.

I miss those moments and those people who meant so much to me.

But I know I am helpless when the Grim Reaper snatches another friend or relative from this life.

For years, there were nearly 15 relatives living next to my house. It was like one giant block party on McClure Street during the holidays. Each Thanksgiving or Christmas Eve, I would move from house to house, enjoying my grandmother's or aunts' culinary delights and making sure I shared a glass of wine at each stop.

Like me, the street has changed and all I have are fond memories. Those homes are no longer occupied by my grandmother, Aunt Minnie, B.J. and Eddie Murano, and the Grossos. 

Before Anthony came along, my wife and I excitedly packed up the car and headed from Maine to Massachusetts to see my relatives during the holidays. The aunts would hand Terri small gifts while I sampled the wine and food and listened to my uncle, who was a top-notch pilot during World War II and Korea, talk about his combat experiences.

But I am older now and they are a part of my past. I understand change is inevitable, but there is pain that comes with change.

But one thing that will never change is my love and appreciation for my wife and son, and immediate family.

And they are the reasons why I give thanks on this day.

Last full measure of devotion

Several flags flap in the breeze at Veterans Memorial Park in Lewiston.

Goodfellows52: Goodfellows52: FRIGHT NIGHT

Goodfellows52: Goodfellows52: FRIGHT NIGHT: Goodfellows52: FRIGHT NIGHT : "The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the...

Goodfellows52: Sign of things to come

Goodfellows52: Sign of things to come: AUBURN, Maine - Mother Nature has some nerve! It's the day before Halloween and Mother Earth has conjured up a ra...

Sign of things to come

"Among famous traitors of history one might mention the weather."

                                                                         Ilka Chase 


AUBURN, Maine - Mother Nature has some nerve!

It's the day before Halloween and Mother Earth has conjured up a rare autumn Nor'easter and aimed it directly at Merry Ole New England.

Thanks a bunch, ma'am!

I just cut the lawn on Wednesday and now I am shoveling on Sunday. Give me a break!

I know it is not personal, but couldn't this freak of nature have waited until at least December? Why panic New Englanders who were frantically clearing out their sheds to get at their entombed snowblowers.

Like Maine doesn't get enough snow!

Being on the receiving end of a Nor'easter is no fun and it is as annoying as seeing signs of Christmas in stores across the mall in early October.

So now it's lights out for the entire northeast as tree limbs and wires come tumbling down due to heavy wet snow. It is the kind of white stuff that triggers heart attacks, not to mention depression and anxiety. Thousands have lost power and their patience.

I am mad as hell and I am not going to take it anymore even though my anger is obviously misdirected, especially when Mother Nature always has the final say in these matters.

I know ski areas will be delighted out in the hinterlands with the early arrival of a blizzard that usually doesn't appear on Maine's radar until January, but for those of us who have a low tolerance for the flaky white stuff in Maine's huge metropolitan cities, this is just a damn nuisance.

For the past few days, weathermen have been predicting 5 to 10 inches of snow. I thought they were out of their minds and their computer models were sabotaged by terrorists. I didn't pay attention to them, putting all my money on Mother Nature to pull a fast one and foul up another weather report. It is October, not January, and suddenly these guys are talking about a Nor'easter and heavy snow.

Get real!

Unfortunately, meteorologists were right on the nose with this prediction in some areas of the nation. Today, Maine and the rest of the Northeast is draped in a blanket of snow stretching all the way to Maryland and Virginia. It's not funny.

Perhaps the apocalypse is upon us - although I doubt it.

I tore open the shudders and threw open the sash Sunday morning, and what to my wondering eyes should appear but heavy gooey snow and no tiny reindeer. I heard the sound of snowblowers off in the distance and shovels scraping the pavement as bewildered Mainers dug their way out of this mess.

I shook my head and reached for the coffee, because you can't talk to me without my first cup of coffee. I am hearing impaired until I down my first cup. The world could be ending, but that would have to wait until I have my first cup of black gold, with cream and sugar, of course.

But Auburn was spared, well sort of, after this fast-moving storm raced toward Canada. We received about three inches and it is melting as I write. In two days, central Maine will become one giant puddle as temperatures soar into the high 50s.

I am not sorry to see it disappear, knowing all too well Old Man Winter isn't done with us, yet.

Goodfellows52: FRIGHT NIGHT

Goodfellows52: FRIGHT NIGHT: "The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown." -...

FRIGHT NIGHT

"The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown." - H. P. Lovecraft

AUBURN — Since we all have crosses to bear, I decided to build two of mine out of wood to celebrate Halloween, and maybe, just maybe, have a devil of a good time spooking trick-or-treaters on my front lawn.

I am not a big fan of a holiday that observes things that go bump in the night and turns sane adults into candy pushers who are complicit in triggering a nationwide sugar high among this nation's youth for several days. My wife and son, on the other hand, enjoy being rattled by a good ghost story as well as putting up Halloween decorations and butchering, aaah, I mean carving a pumpkin.

I couldn't care less about zombies, vampires, ghosts, the undead, and no, I am not referring to members of congress. What frightens me about this night is the spike in cavities across this great nation — and the fear of rational adults handing out healthy treats.

When I was a kid a couple of centuries ago, I thought it was a nightmare to receive a nutritious snack instead of a chocolate bar. It was like staying after school for talking too much in class. How could grownups traumatize a child who longed for a bag full of M&Ms and Malo Cups? Finding a fruit bar at the bottom of my bag was like getting pajamas for Christmas.

No toys! What was up with Santa, anyway!

But this Halloween, my son wanted to go all out and shake up the neighborhood kids with more spooky stuff. I suggested we use leftover two-by-fours and build a pair of crosses to send chills up our neighbor's spines. But I wasn't sure what names to use on our grave markers. Anthony didn't flinch when he suggested the last names of Terry Francona and Theo Epstein, the Boston Red Sox's manager and general manager who are no longer employed with a baseball team that burned up in orbit at the end of the season.

I smiled, got out my wood-burning tool and went to work on the crosses. I love the smell of burning pine as I carved deep letters into the soft wood. I put my skill-saw and tape measure to good use to make our macabre endeavor come to fruition. We stained our crosses to make our grave markers weather resistant and then surveyed the front lawn to choose a location that would induce nightmares for weeks to come. I understand that location is everything when it comes to scaring unsuspecting trick-or-treaters out of their socks.

But please understand that I had no desire to see Francona or Epstein banished from the Sox organization. These guys brought starving Red Sox fans two World Series titles after decades of disappointment. I was not happy to see these fine men leave Beantown. I didn't show up at Fenway Park with a mob, and sickles and torches in hand, demanding to see heads role. So, when you see our crosses bearing the names of these two fine human beings on my front lawn during this evening of fright, this is not a demonstration of anger toward two men who ended Boston's drought. This father-and-son duo is merely having a little fun at the expense of the Boston Red Sox.

Besides I will never understand how fans go berserk when their team comes undone or how they "hate" an opposing team. Look, I grew up 10 miles from Friendly Fenway, but there has never been a day when I uttered the phrase, "I hate those damn Yankees." I don't hate the damn Yankees, Montreal Canadiens, New York Jets or the Los Angeles Lakers. I do enjoy watching the Yanks take it on the chin when they play Boston, but I also think Derek Jeter is a class act. I do not carry a grudge against Bill Buckner. And I was hoping Francona would stay on for another year.

So the Red Sox had a meltdown and missed the playoffs. Life goes on, and there will be other seasons for Boston to make amends

So lighten up, and remember, this is not a trick, but a treat. So take this candy bar as an expression of our goodwill. But we also hope you leave our front lawn frightened and looking over your shoulder when things do go bump in the night. 

Goodfellows52: The summer wind

Goodfellows52: The summer wind: Pleasure craft sail around the harbor at the Eastern Prom in Portland. Anthony strolls the beach in Portland. The father-and-s...

The summer wind

Pleasure craft sail around the harbor at the Eastern Prom in Portland.

Anthony strolls the beach in Portland.

The father-and-son enjoy a rare warm October day.

A duck boat motors around the harbor

The Jewel dwarfs boats in the harbor.

A breach-loading cannon from the U.S.S. Maine that was sunk in Havana harbor and triggered the war between the United States and Spain.

The U.S. flag still waves from the mast of the U.S.S. Portland.

PORTLAND - I am not sure if global warming has had a hand in this smoldering weather or Mother Nature is just being charitable before winter closes in and locks us in an icy vise for the next five months.

Whatever the explanation, summer's searing heat returned to New England on an October weekend which is usually cold and windy, and reserved for raking leaves, watching high school football games, and stocking firewood.

Two nights ago, temperatures plummeted into the low 30s, opening the door for Jack Frost to take out what was left of my garden.

For two days, chilly weather settled over New England. The smell of smoking hot wood stoves drifted over my neighborhood as Mainers reluctantly turned on their furnaces for the first time since May. It was cold enough to snow and I saw people in fall jackets.

I was about to bow to Old Man Winter and brace myself for the cold and snow that will soon wreak havoc on the six-state region.

But this weekend, summer snuck back into New England and broiled the state of Maine. The cold nights disappeared and the humidity returned. I turned on a pair fans, which is unheard of in October.

The humid weather gave us an excuse to pack sandwiches, head to the Eastern Prom in Portland, walk the pristine beach and simply enjoy the warm sun.

We weren't the only Mainers who shunned their TVs, laptops and shutoff their cell phones for a walk along a crowded beach. Thousands of Pine Tree natives were strolling the Eastern Prom or weaving in out of the crowds at the Old Port. A cruise ship, "The Jewel" was parked along the wharf. It is a floating city that dwarfed all other boats and ships in the harbor.

Temperatures rose to the mid 80s. Beach-goers threw themselves in the water as landlubbers basked in the burning sun. Shorts and bathing suits were the attire for the day. Runners and cyclists were out in full force. Sailing craft of all sizes headed for open seas.

As I can remember, the second weekend in October was usually cold, damp cloudy and just plain windy.

But summer found its way in New England and chased away Autumn's chill, treating Mainers to a brief respite before Winter has the final say.