Goodfellows52: Flying into the past

Goodfellows52: Flying into the past: Anthony stands next to a pair of jet engines at the air show


A Corsair sits next to a trainer


A p-40 Tomahawk and the f...

Flying into the past

Anthony stands next to a pair of jet engines at the air show 

A Corsair sits next to a trainer

A P-40 Tomahawk and the firepower, below, of the B-25 Mitchell.

The Blue Angels sit ready to go.

BRUNSWICK — Anthony and I were walking toward the car when a formation of vintage World War II planes passed loudly overhead. We suddenly felt like extras on the movie set of "Tora, Tora, Tora," an exceptional movie about the bombing of Pearl Harbor.

Watching the planes overhead triggered a conversation between a father and son about Pearl Harbor. Not many people to get to see these magnificent planes from the past stream across the open sky— unless you attend an air show.

Pilots fly out of the past and into the present in planes that gave America an edge during a world war where air superiority played a huge role in ending a global conflict.

Watching these remarkable relics from yesteryear maneuver without the slightest hint of wear and tear is a privilege and a history lesson worth learning. How these exceptional pilots keep these 60-year-old crates airborne is a testament to endurance and patriotic pride.

And yet, there they were — an all-star lineup from World War II that included a well-maintained Corsair, a fearless Japanese Zero, and two B-25 Mitchell medium bombers, roaming the skies and dazzling thousands of spectators at the Great State of Maine Air Show on a hot and humid Saturday afternoon.

For years, the former Brunswick Naval Air Base (now called Brunswick Landing) was responsible for organizing this aviation event, but when the base closed, a private enterprise produced this year's event.

Anthony and I have been attending the Brunswick air shows for the past six years, and it never ever gets old — no matter who is running the show. It's a chance to get up close and personal with military hardware and an opportunity to meet these adept pilots.

Right now, as Hurricane Irene, turned tropical storm, lashes Maine on Sunday, we were wise to attend Saturday's event. The show was cancelled Sunday.

We examined a number of World War II planes, including the firepower of a pair of B-25 Mitchells. There were also A-10 Thunderbolts - Vietnam leftovers that  have been refurbished and continue to play a major role in close combat support in the Middle East. The entire aircraft was built around the A-10's 2,000-pound Gatling gun.

Another big draw is the Blue Angels, featuring pilots who light up the sky in their F/A-18 Hornets. Besides aircraft, there were several military vehicles on hand and displays of jet engines.

For this father and son, it was an opportunity to watch these "oldies but goodies" streak overhead and remind us of a nation that looked to the skies to preserve its way of life during World War II.

Goodfellows52: Tidal wave of changes

Goodfellows52: Tidal wave of changes: "Popham Beach's landscape has taken a beating thanks to the Morse River, punishing winter storms and global warming.


The beach's ..."

Tidal wave of changes

Popham Beach's landscape has taken a beating thanks to the Morse River, punishing winter storms and global warming.

The beach's nemsis: Erosion

"Just as the wave cannot exist for itself, but is ever a part of the heaving surface of the ocean, so must I never live my life for itself, but always in the experience which is going on around me."                                                                                             -  Albert Schweitzer

PHIPPSBURG, Maine - There has been several tense moments when I was bushwhacked by Popham Beach's shifting landscape, rough surf and dangerous undertow and riptide.

Right now, this spectacular shoreline has taken a beating thanks to punishing winter storms and the meandering Morse River, putting beachgoers at risk during high tide. If you don't respect Popham's overpowering surf, then you might find yourself in harm's way.

According to a friendly officer on beach patrol, a woman was recently swept out to sea in July, and a helicopter was summoned from Cape Cod to rescue her. But she was lucky: The tide swept her back to shore.

We usually visit Popham twice during the summer to take on this beach's battering waves and visit its two historic forts, Popham and Baldwin. There is also a small island that is accessible when the tide recedes. It is a challenging and precarious climb to the top, but the view of the entire beach is simply awesome. But one slip on the backside of this island means a 30-foot plunge into turbulent waters and certain peril. Waves are constantly slapping the island, and I believe it would be impossible to survive the surf.

The wild waves are enticing to two surfer dudes like my son and me. We prefer low tide and a mile walk to the water that is usually shrouded in a morning fog. We trudge through the soft and sinking sand and eventually disappear into the mist. The water is usually cold, not like the tepid waters at Old Orchard Beach.

For the next couple of hours, Anthony and I are swept away by powerful waves. We notice hundreds of small fish darting around our legs, but we quickly figure out what is driving the tiny creatures toward the shallow water. Large stripers, which are feeding on the smaller creatures, make their presence known when they dive out the water. It is spectacular sight to see these big fish launching themselves in the air.

There are two instances where I found myself in a dangerous predicament at Popham. Anthony was just six when I stopped paying attention to the rising tide. We had a boogie board with us. I rushed back to shore, but the water was already waste high for my 6-foot-3 frame and over Anthony's head. 

We were in trouble. 

I told Anthony to climb on top of the board and I dragged both of us to safety despite a riptide and undertow that almost caused me to go dead in the water. When he was a toddler, I carried him off the island when the tied started coming in, making it an arduous trek back to the beach.

That is the danger with Popham Beach. The tides can sneak in and trap you from behind as the water fills the deep gullies chiseled out by storms and the Morse River.

Those treacherous moments with my son occurred a decade ago when the landscape was easy to navigate as a swimmer. Today, Popham's shoreline has changed dramatically thanks to the Morse River, which has cut closer to the shoreline over the years, wiping out defensive dunes and threatening the new bathhouse installed next to the beach. Coastal storms and global warming also chewed up Popham, but the Morse River has rerouted itself away from the spectacular beach, preventing further erosion, which is great news for beach lovers.

But whatever treacherous changes have taken place at Popham, Anthony and I will always return to visit and traverse the beach's hacked-up landscape to take a crack at Popham's uncompromising waves.

Goodfellows52: Surf's up

Goodfellows52: Surf's up: "'We are tied to the ocean. And when we go back to the sea, whether it is to sail or to watch — we are going back from whence we came.' ..."

Malignant cells

AUBURN, Maine - My wife and I were waiting patiently at a clinic in a hospital. We brought our books (Kindles, E-Readers and iBooks are dirty words in our house) because we are patrons of the printed word.

We believe in being quite in close quarters, and when I speak with my wife in the next seat, we whisper out of respect for patients who also sit in silence.

I was reading about the origins of the Boston Red Sox, giving me the perfect excuse to ignore a TV daytime talk show host's interview with another narcissistic celebrity. We were engrossed in our reading when this annoying voice erupted and disrupted our concentration, making me lose my place in the book.

The volume grew as this impolite person let the entire room in on her cell phone conversation, which went on for nearly 15 minutes. What about leaving the room? How about: "I can't talk now" or "I will call you back." Something short and sweet, giving the rest of us a break from your nonsense.

I am not a nosey person. We are a "please and thank you" family who respects the privacy of others. I didn't need to know her business. I thought about politely telling our babbling roomy to be quiet, reaching for a can of Mace or requesting a bucket of water to drown out the conversation and destroy the phone - sort of a two-for-one deal.

There is no escaping these annoying, self-centered cell phone users whose ranks grow each day. All you need to do to join them is to be rude and become oblivious to your fellow man.

I understand we move in a world of instant communication and cell phones can be handy in emergencies and checking on our children.

Still, I can't count the number of times when a distracted driver, with a cell phone in one hand and the wheel of a two-ton SUV in the other, nearly knocking me off the road. When I use a horn to express my dismay, these inattentive drivers certainly don't mind telling me I am No. 1 with the usual hand sign that often triggers road rage. 

I have been privy to numerous cell phone conversations in a grocery market. I learned about Uncle George doing a 5-to-10 stint at Folsom State Prison for knocking over a bank while I tossed coffee into my carriage. I witnessed customers talking on the phone as they slowly reach for their wallet to pay the bill at the register. I watch in horror as a driver texts at 60 miles per hour with a car full of children. I can't believe people have a phone to their ear at the beach, on a hike or walking down the street.

Shut the damn thing off, will you please!

I don't know how to text and I don't want to learn because I hate looking down on the world. I welcome face-to-face conversations with my next-door neighbors. I was raised on a street where 17 of my relatives lived. Hot nights were spent on porches discussing the Vietnam war or the weather.

And I don't want a phone call in the car when Eric Clapton's "I feel free" is playing on the radio.

I snicker when people confess that they couldn't survive without a cell phone. We went without a mobile phone for four years and somehow we made it through the rain and kept our point of view.

Last summer, I went overboard and purchased a $10 TracPhone and spent another $20 for 60 minutes, which lasted four months.

The extent of my conversations usually goes like this:

"Hello?' I answer.

"Hi Tony, we need milk," said my wife.

"OK, I will pick up a gallon on the way home. Love ya, bye," I say.

I am off the phone in less than a minute. Besides, what could I possibly add to that conversation.

And I didn't annoy a soul during that brief call.

Goodfellows52: Stepping into Maine's past

Goodfellows52: Stepping into Maine's past: "PHIPPSBURG, Maine — There are two huge granite and cement relics from the past that can't be ignored when you visit Popham Beach..."

Stepping into Maine's past

The way to the top

The long road to the top

The observatory tower. It is a massive structure.

A view of a section of the fort. Note the command post at the top.

Fort Baldwin shows its wear and tear.

A window to the past

This where one of the big guns stood.

A fireplace to take the chill out of a cold sea breeze.

PHIPPSBURG, Maine — There are two huge granite and cement relics that can't be ignored when you visit Popham Beach.

One behemoth, Fort Popham, sits menacingly on the coast. The other garrison, stealthy Fort Baldwin, is just across the street from Fort Popham and is hidden on a hilltop overlooking the beach. 

For people who have a passion for history, these massive remnants were built to protect Maine's coast and won't cost you a dime as you spend a good hour touring these coastal fortifications. There is no charge for taking a peak inside the austere rooms or stand where an artillery battery was located.

Unfortunately, these structures have shown a lot of wear and tear and will probably need restoration to prevent these fortifications from crumbling into the ground.

After getting tossed about in Popham's wild surf, Anthony, my wife, Terri, and I break camp and drive down the end of the beach to visit both forts. It has become a habit for us. For three students of history, making the 500-foot climb to visit Fort Baldwin or trudging up the second tier of Fort Popham is a treat and a good workout, too.

Fort Popham's massive 30-foot walls peppered with gun ports can be seen from the beach, but when you enter the fort, you are caught in a time warp dating back to Civil War. You will marvel at the huge blocks of granite used to construct the fort that has been around since 1862. My son and I would pack up our toy pistols and pretend we were repelling the Confederate army or worse — bloodthirsty pirates who were bent on sacking the town of Phippsburg. We aimed our toy weapons through the gun ports and ordered our imaginary artillery on the first floor of the structure to shell rebel ships sitting in the water just outside the fort.

According to www.travel.maine.info, Fort Popham housed 36 cannon, each weighing 25 tons and firing projectiles weighing up to 480 pounds.There are 20 musket ports on the second tier of the fort. This fort was garrisoned during the Spanish American War and World War I, too. But the construction of Fort Baldwin to house long-range artillery made Fort Popham obsolete.

From 1905 to 1912, workers poured tons of concrete to build Fort Baldwin on 38 acres of land high above the beach. The fort took its name from Colonial army engineer Jeduthan Baldwin. The fort consisted of three batteries, including Cogan with two three-inch guns, Hawley with two six-inch pedestal guns and Hardman with one six inch pedestal gun, according to www.visitmaine.com. Both forts were garrisoned by 200 soldiers from the 13th and 29th Coastal Artillery during World War I, and all three batteries were removed in 1924.

But Fort Baldwin was garrisoned again in World War II and was used as an observatory. The 8th Coast Artillery occupied the fort from 1941 to 1943 to watch for German boats.

Baldwin also has unique landmark — a 30- to 40-foot observatory tower that leaves you winded when you finally get to the top, but what a view of Fort Popham and the beach's surrounding landscape.

When you have seen enough of the forts, there is an old cannon on the beach next to Percy's General Store. I am not sure what make it is, but I am betting it is either a Rodman or a Dahlgren. Whatever the make or its age, this is still one menacing cannon, which sits facing the open waters of the Atlantic.

There are 25 forts in Maine and each fortification is unique in its design. These garrisons allow Anthony and I an opportunity to step back in time and learn about their roles in American history.

Goodfellows52: Surf's up

Goodfellows52: Surf's up: "'We are tied to the ocean. And when we go back to the sea, whether it is to sail or to watch — we are going back from whence we came.' ..."

Surf's up

"We are tied to the ocean. And when we go back to the sea, whether it is to sail or to watch — we are going back from whence we came."

                                                — President John F. Kennedy

OLD ORCHARD BEACH — Anthony and I have always been on the same wavelength when it comes to the ocean's tumultuous surf.

You could say we enjoy making waves at the beach.

Before Anthony reached the age when building sand castles was no longer a priority, my son loved constructing forts made out of the beach's moist, white sand. He also spent hours watching his boats get tossed around in the surf. He studied how his toy vessels capsized by the force of waves.

A decade later and Anthony's fascination with waves continues, and he literally dives head first into the topic whenever we storm Maine's beaches.

Unlike a majority of beachgoers, this father-and-son team refuses to sit on the hot sand and baste in the sun. I understand this is America and its citizens are entitled to develop skin cancer, but for us, tanning is a damn waste of our precious time. You can get all the vitamin D you need while you are floundering in the heavy surf.

A soon as we find a spot on the beach, we disappear into the Atlantic's cold waters like a nuclear submarine and ride waves for hours. We only drag ourselves to dry land for a towel — or when our empty stomachs demand a sandwich and a cold drink — and the occasional trip to the men's room.

Old Orchard Beach was crowded on a steamy Saturday, and the sea was angry that day my friends. The storm that lingered over Maine for nearly a week moved off shore but was still stirring the pot out at sea, providing eye-opening waves and a powerful undertow at OOB.

The surf was up and the dynamic father-and-son duo threw themselves into the fray. The water was warm, towering waves were plenty and the hazy sun was strong. Conditions were perfect for two surfer dudes who wanted to take Old Orchard's monstrous waves out for a spin.

The ocean generated huge waves nearly every minute, but when one of these tsunamis came our way and blocked out the horizon — look out — because you were in for one helluva a ride. Anthony and I dove into the water just as these waves crested, driving us about 50 yards toward shore. The force was so rough that there were moments where we seemed lost and feeling punch drunk when we surfaced from the shallow water.

We ran toward each wave, hopping aboard each time for another reckless ride that sometimes drove us into the murky bottom of OOB. We were patient when a brief calm on the high seas interrupted our frenzy of body surfing. But when the Big Kahuna, and I am not referring to actor Cliff Robertson who starred in a "Gidget" movie, came barreling ashore, we leaped into the water for another lift.

It never gets old and each wave is a challenge.

Riding a monster of a wave is a privilege, and as you hear it roar over you when you are shot through the surf like a torpedo, there is this wonderful feeling that you have left the planet. For me, it is like an out-of-body experience even though this feeling of ataraxia lasts for a few moments.

For the next two hours, Anthony and I tackled wave after wave before exhaustion, humidity and an unrelenting sun drove all three weary surfers off the beach. We had enough, but we can never get enough of summer and Maine's spectacular beaches. 

I have been drawn to the sea since I rode waves at Revere Beach as a boy, and I believe I have passed on my love and respect of the ocean to my son, whose passion for the sea and all its wonders grows stronger each summer.

Goodfellows52: Loss for words

Goodfellows52: Loss for words