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Monday, March 28, 2011

A sweet rite of spring


 
SABATTUS, Maine - You don't have to wear your Sunday best when you celebrate this mouth-watering tradition in the Pine Tree State.

I only became aware of the informal Maine holiday after marrying a true Mainer who knew her away around this vast state and its customs.

I learned that it's an event that happens every spring, just like baseball, and life-long residents turn out in droves to attend Maine Maple Sunday, where taste buds come alive over homemade syrup, maple doughnuts and fudge that you won't find at your local grocery store because these home-grown creations are in a class by themselves.

That's what makes Jillson's so unique and worth a scenic ride through long-winding roads and small bridges that cross over small streams.

Some locally-owned farms like Jillson's put on a spectacular breakfast that would have the glutton King Henry the VIII demanding at least four helpings of this enterprise's fresh eggs and sausages. It is a morning extravaganza that features a smorgasbord that celebrates breakfast on a frigid March day.





But expect long lines on a chilly morning as you watch customers overindulge at that breakfast table. But these hardy Mainers and tourists don't seem to mind the long delays as reluctant and well-fed customers trickle out of Jillson's.

After you have had your fill, stop next door and watch sweet-smelling syrup being made and get ready to spend some dough buying syrup that makes pancakes and waffles the perfect meal any time of the day. These farmers work hard to make this stuff so its worth shelling out a few extra bucks to enjoy such fine syrup.

Walking around the grounds of Jillson's offers customers awesome views of the countryside in central Maine. The views across open fields are simply awesome and a quick walk-through of a large barn that houses a variety of animals takes the chill out of a frigid March morning.

It's a sweet tradition, and it is easy to see why families mark this day on their calendars when spring rolls around each year.

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Preserving the union


AUBURN, Maine — Marriage requires tenacity, compassion, understanding and the willingness to go bungee jumping — every day.

It's right up there with cliff diving, treasure hunting, rafting on the Amazon or driving in Massachusetts.
 
When two people give monogamy a chance, well, it's like jumping off a bridge with with an enormous rubber band attached to your midsection. You are taking a big chance on a person who just wandered into your life and turned your world upside down - all in the name of love and happiness. 
It is also sort of like leaping out of a perfectly good plane with a parachute. You are counting on that chute to open, but in marriage you are putting all your money on your spouse to help break your fall - every day.
Anthony and Terri hanging out at Two Lights in Cape Elizabeth last summer.

Marriage isn't a cakewalk. It requires a lot of damn work, patience and stamina. Anybody who tells you its a cinch suffered head trauma after the bungee cord snapped.

I have been married 21 years and I still don't know if I am doing it right. But I can tell you this, it has been one helluva of ride and I would be the first in line to try it all over again with just one woman - Terri. We have been married for over two decades, which is a test to our endurance or insanity - take your pick. I believe our union is held together by two people who really dig each other, and there is no secret to our affection.
 
Terri is one of the most resilient and remarkable human beings I have ever met, and get this, she finds a way to put up with me each day. I am glad she is not billing me for this successful relationship. I could not afford to pay this kind soul, who turned out to be an outstanding mother and raised a fine son.
 
Truth be told, we have experienced our ugly moments and tragic events that puts every marriage to the test. Our union is not perfect, but we try to make it function each day. It will always be a work in progress - especially when you are raising a child, and that is another full-time job that puts additional stress on a marriage, but we both would not have it any other way.


I was fortunate to listen to an audio essay on National Public Radio during an afternoon commute. I must apologize for forgetting the producer of this wonderful piece. The speaker wisely said that marriage requires both spouses to bring their excess emotional baggage to the relationship and then unload it together. Terri and I have unloaded a lot emotional issues together over the past 21 years, and still our marriage survives.
 
That wonderful radio essay is not only accurate but endearing. Marriage is work and every relationship needs a tune-up as the years pass.
 
Despite 21 years of marriage, which we are celebrating today, I can honestly say I wouldn't bat an eye if I had to jump off a cliff with Terri over the next 20 years. 


She's worth the fall.


Keeper of my soul

Remember, you hold my heart in your soft and gentle hands while we continue take a firm stand and struggle against this bland life.

So for goodness sakes, let us never part because
you are indeed a work of art
You are the keeper of my soul, a beacon of light

so please don't lose sight of our love,
or I just might fade into the night

We've been together for decades now
The years fade, yet we continue to wade through time

as we turn a blind eye to the passing of our primes
Our love still endures and I will always find you oh so alluring
Your charm and compassion will never be out of fashion. You are a fine mother like no other.

And there's your son who understands you will always be number one.

And now we have this opportunity to celebrate another anniversary
We've experienced our numerous ups and downs, but 

that never stopped us from clowning around
We have lost so many loved ones along way, and 

even though it's not OK, we still find a way to make it through the day.
So let us honor this union and hope there will be more reunions
Let's take the good with the bad in a marriage that has withstood its tribulations and temptations
So remember, this heart you hold, which is frayed and has some tares, should always be handled with loving care

Anthony Blasi, March 24, 2011



Saturday, March 5, 2011

Loss for words






"You never realize how much your mother loves you till you explore the attic - and find every letter you ever sent her, every finger painting, clay pot, bead necklace, Easter chicken, cardboard Santa Claus, paperlace Mother's Day card and school report since day one." - Pam Brown


"Everyone I know goes away In the end." 
                                           "Hurt" by the Nine Inch Nails

AUBURN, Maine — Nothing is the same when your mother dies!

I look at the phone resting quietly on the counter and expect a call from her. But the line remains silent as I sadly remind myself that I will no longer hear her voice again.


The one-year anniversary of her death has snuck up on me and knocked me to the ground. I've been hit hard with such sorrow and find it almost impossible to believe she's been gone for what seems an eternity.

Those are the most difficult and depressing moments — when I am alone in the house and find myself longing to hear her long-distance voice. There is always that emptiness that seeps into your heart. She will never be apart of my life. The finality of death can drive any person mad or send them spiraling into a crippling depression.


Her passing reminded us all of our own mortality.

I cherished our lengthy discussions when we both had a free moment to speak with each other during the day. 


The world seemed right and I felt reassured that my mother still gave a damn about me despite our differences. Two hours before her death, I was pleading with her to see a doctor, believing she might have pneumonia. She wouldn't listen and told me she would be fine.

I wish that was true, but she wasn't a fan of doctors or maybe she had enough of muddling through another day of dragging around that ball-and-chain, her oxygen tank.

Going out for a cup of coffee also became a chore because she was forced to take along her portable respirator.

It's been a year since her tired body gave out and death quietly claimed my mother, leaving a family shell-shocked and heartbroken over her abrupt departure. I do not seek pity or comfort from my fellow man. I understand Death is inevitable, and for me, there are no five stages of grief, only longing for a person I loved and respected despite her shortcomings, and we ALL have them.

It just hurts and will smart the rest of my life. I have done a fine job keeping it together in spite of this enormous loss. My understanding son and wife are my lifelines and prevent me from going under in a tumultuous sea of sorrow.

Louise and I would talk every day about every thing. We engaged in lively debates about politics, religion and music. No topic was taboo for a mother-and-son team who figured out the world's problems over the course of a 20-minute phone conversation. I miss that give-and-take from a woman who loved opening her mind up to new adventures and ideas.

I still find myself reaching for the phone to boast about one of Anthony's adventures or accomplishments. She enjoyed hearing about all her grandchildrens' exploits, and I made sure she was the first to learn about our fun in the sun.

She was a remarkable women who confronted mental illness and other hardships with her combative zeal.

She wasn't perfect, and I don't think she sought perfection, anyway. She was life-long smoker who could drive us all mad at times, and of course, her four children drove her completely bonkers. But that is the pact you make when it comes to unconditional love among family members. There is a hidden clause in that unwritten contract where families promise to stir the pot as emotions run high between siblings and parents. We would be at odds with her one minute, and like sudden gust of wind, we would all be hugging her and professing our devotion to this family's matriarch.

Louise loved the ocean and was a regular at Revere Beach. Our mother courageously brought four children to the beach and single-handily watched over her brood without any help. She did this on a daily basis well into our teenage years before we slowly ventured out on our own. To this day, I think she deserved some kind of medal for entertaining four rambunctious children on hot summer days. There was one warm September day when we, just the two of us, walked the beach and then dipped our feet in the salt water that was still warm from those steamy August days. We topped off that Indian Summer day with a hot dog from Kelly's Roast Beef and just talked. Years later, Louise, my son and I spent a few hours on the beach while she sipped coffee and I flew a kite. She stood by the wall and smiled as our kite soared into the heavens.

Sometimes, I will listen to WBZ in Boston to get handle on the news and I think my mother is sitting at the table listening to radio with a cup of coffee in her hand. Louise always had her ears tuned to radio. She enjoyed the medium and thought television could not hold a candle to radio, books or newspapers. Louise believed in the power of knowledge and the printed word. She understood words start wars and bring peace, inspire people and uphold the law.

There is an old, hand-made windmill that was built in Pennsylvania by my late Uncle Ted. I took it home with me soon after Louise's death and began restoring it. She loved the unique lawn ornament because Uncle Ted built it.  I worked on it with loving care and remember how she would ask me to drag it out of her cellar each spring and display it on the lawn. I will carry on that tradition when I drag it out of my cellar and place this restored windmill and all its splendor in my backyard. 

A year has passed since she passed away with no fanfare on a Monday afternoon. The sadness still gnaws at me and memories of her still trigger a sense of hopelessness. A glance at the windmill, a song from the '70s or reading one of her numerous letters can be a heartbreaking experience.

I have in my possession hundreds of photographs of dead people who can no longer be apart of my short life. My mother joined that exclusive club of late family members frozen in time.

I miss them all.

And now, whenever I want to ask a question about our heritage or a long-lost relative, she is no longer there to provide the answers. This was a woman who was proud to be a DAR (Daughters of the American Revolution) member and regaled with stories of her childhood growing up in Everett, Mass., and spending her summers as a child in Waterford, Penn.

What I wouldn't do to have one more long-distance conversation with her over a morning cup of coffee. I would tell her I loved her even though she already knew that.

But I would tell her anyway.

Out and about

Take a walk on the wild side around New England's outdoors. Come walk with my son and I as we explore state parks, historic sites, and creepy cemeteries. This is the good stuff in life, and there is nothing worth watching on television, anyway. Join us as we take advantage of Maine's beaches and pristine forests. In between our sojourns through the Pine Tree State, look for political insight and a few well-written opinion pieces as well.