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Monday, February 13, 2012

Goodfellows52: A stitch in time for my valentine

Goodfellows52: A stitch in time for my valentine: A valentine for Terri AUBURN, Maine - I didn’t want to go the traditional route and shower my beloved wife with flowers on Valent...

A stitch in time for my valentine

A valentine for Terri


"I was about half in love with her by the time we sat down. That's the thing about girls. Every time they do something pretty... you fall half in love with them, and then you never know where the hell you are."






AUBURN, Maine — I didn’t want to go the traditional route and shower my beloved wife with flowers on Valentine’s Day.


Sure, I purchased a small box of chocolates to go along with a Hallmark card, but my valentine deserved more than a dozen roses and a warm embrace after 22 years of marriage.


Going out to eat and spending a small fortune on food that adds to the waistline was certainly an option.


Been there, done that.


I wanted this token of my love to be unique.


What to do?


Well, it just so happens I was heading to the Waterfront Flea Market located at Fort Andross in Brunswick on Sunday.


Well, we strolled up and down the isles nearly a dozen times, hoping to spot the perfect gift for a woman who has devoted so much of her life to her son and husband.


While my son, Anthony, was busy looking through antique books, I got the notion to check out the dozens of old paintings.


Nothing stood out as I wandered the floor, hoping to find that perfect gift for her. Anthony had settled on the book, “They Were Expendable," a 1942 book about the men who manned the U.S. Navy’s PT boats during World War II.


After another 30 minutes of checking out a treasure-trove of relics from the past, I was about to give up and pay a visit to the florist to purchase roses.


Anthony suggested taking one desperate last look before we shoved off. I peaked inside one room and there it was - Terri’s gift. It was the perfect combination of intricate needle point and cross stitching of an Amish farm scene.


Terri is an Amish fanatic. She reads books about the Amish's way of life and really can't tell you why she has such a fascination with the Amish.


The 12-by-16 needle point was impressive and was done by an 89-year-old women who spent months making each stitch count. I don’t know where this elderly woman got the patience to complete this work of art.


Anthony and I agreed to purchase the needle point with hopes that Terri would appreciate the gift.


When Terri opened the wrap and took a good look at the needle point, she smiled and couldn’t stop thanking me. Anthony said, “Dad, you scored big.”


I knew that 22 years ago when I married Terri.

Friday, February 10, 2012

Get over it, Pats fans


"Listen, I don't mean to be a sore loser, but uh, when it's done if I'm dead, kill him!"
- Paul Newman as Butch Cassidy in the movie, "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid."
AUBURN, Maine — There was still snow on the ground Monday morning. The wood stove was hot as hell, providing comforting heat as I ambled toward the coffee pot to pour myself a hot one. Our silly cat was clawing at the door. I reached for the morning newspaper in the cold air.

Nothing had changed since Sunday night when the New England Patriots lost a heart breaker to the New York Giants. It's been seven days, and if you are still brooding or whining, get some professional help. There are plenty of shrinks in the phone book.

I didn't turn to the bottle for a little Southern Comfort or call my family in tears. No finger pointing from my sofa seat. No loud cursing. No banging on the stop sign outside my home on a quiet street in Mayberry RFD.
I am betting some fans wanted to throw themselves off a bridge Sunday. 
Not me! I hit the sack and drifted off without any tossing and turning.

I was over the Patriots' loss as soon I flipped the television channel to watch Masterpiece Theater on PBS. OK, I am a snob and enjoy watching British-made mysteries.

It's not that I didn't give a damn. I am not a disgruntled fan shopping around for another NFL team to root for next season. I will always be a Pats fan. Hell, I grew up in the Greater Boston area in a town that is a stone's throw away from Fenway Park.

Give up on the Pats? Never, god damn it! I am from Massachusetts, god damn it! That's like turning my back on the Bruins, Celtics and Red Sox. That would make me a communist, a traitor or even worse — a member of the Republican Party.

Look, Tom Brady and the rest of his crew marched off with a truck load of cash that you or I will never see in this lifetime. Nobody died and it was game that kept us all on the edge, especially when Brady launched a long-distance pass into the end zone. I knew it was a long shot, but that didn't stop me from acting like Pollyanna while the ball sailed into the air. I crossed my fingers and promised to give up four-letter words or never touch a drop of dark beer.

Well, not really.

Sure, watching New York take one Giant step past the Pats left me gut shot with a hole the size of cannon ball. But my wounds quickly healed with a strong cup of coffee and the love of a good woman.

I made no plans to travel to New York to disrupt the Giants' celebration. I am not a sore loser. I wish the Giants and Eli well in their next endeavor.

Of course, there will be THOSE fans who want to make a villain out of Wes Welker and label him a Bill Buckner, who was crucified by overzealous Red Sox fans who seemed to take pleasure in punishing this man.

So Welker didn't catch the ball and there were other dropped passes during those crucial 57 seconds. You know that that means — these guys are human. Anybody can screw up. Leave this man alone. He probably feels worse than any rabid Patriots fan covered in face paint.

You feel let down by the Pats' loss. Get a frigging life. Remember, knucklehead, it's a game. Accept it!

In Boston, it was sad to see that a handful of people were arrested after the game for acting like morons. So your team loses a close one, and that gives you an excuse to turn over cars and shoot up the neighborhood? Forget jail. Stick them in a deep hole in the woods.

Look, New England, we took it on the chin this time.

The best remedy for our broken hearts is to throw our full support behind the Celtics or Bruins.

Better yet, spring training is around the corner. Before you know it, the Boys of Summer will be back on the diamond and the memory of that cold day in Indianapolis will fade in the summer sunshine.

Saturday, February 4, 2012

Goodfellows52: Patriot games

Goodfellows52: Patriot games: AUBURN, Maine — Sports bars will be packed with customers who will be three sheets to wind by halftime. Pizza joints and liquor store...

Patriot games


    AUBURN, Maine — Sports bars will be packed with customers who will be three sheets to the wind by halftime. Pizza joints and liquor stores will experience their own version of Black Friday. 

   And the good citizens of America will open their homes to anybody with a six-pack of beer and a bucket of chicken wings, as we all gather to watch the New England Patriots and the New York Giants beat each other up in the Super Bowl on Sunday night.
   
   It is the Coliseum in the heart of Rome all over again — without the spears, axes and swords. There is no battle to the death in this matchup. These Spartans are spared and will head to the bank with cold, hard cash in their pockets. And the Game is in Indianapolis, but it still feels like the Coliseum.
   
   But I want no part of watching a game at a tavern. I don't want to listen to annoying, tipsy patrons give me their take on the game. Every bar-stool critic will offer his prediction with words slurred by booze. Back off you boobs. Tell it to someone who gives a damn.
  
    I haven't invited a soul to my house to watch the Big Game on a big TV. I have a small TV. I don't want friends or relatives distracting me when it is a critical fourth-and-2 situation on the 30-yard line for the Patriots. I don't want to feel pressured to make my home spotless or cook for 30 people who might leave my house in a stupor and get behind the wheel of a car.
   
   Keep it!
   
   I will be home watching the game with my son, Anthony, and wife, Terri, who won't holler at the television. They won't disown the Patriots when Tom Brady throws a rare interception in the first quarter.
   
    I won't be hammering away on Facebook during the game. I don't have an account. I don't need updates via email about a Game I am also viewing. My laptop will be off.
   
    Before I tied the knot, I watched games at local establishments. What I found just as amusing are intoxicated fans stumbling from one bar stool to another to get in some one's face about the Game. The noise level was insane and patrons were more focused on their chicken wings than the Game.
   
   Whenever I have been invited to enjoy the Big Game at some one's home, I couldn't concentrate with people carrying on about the weather or politics. 

   Too much background noise.
   
   So I will be home and I won't be alone. I will cook a good meal. I might have a libation as the Pats do their best to knock down the formidable Giants.
   
    I will not install huge signs on my lawn, buy a Patriots cap or shirt, or attach a bumper sticker with a Patriots logo on my vehicle. I don't need to proclaim my allegiance to New England by becoming a spectacle in my neighborhood. 

   There will be no body painting in my home. I am not the wacko auto mechanic David Puddy who scared a priest to death with his New Jersey Devils face painting in a heart-warming "Seinfeld" episode.

   I am a quiet Patriot who walks softly and carries a 12-ounce beer in his hand.
   
   I want quiet.
  
   But if you do show up at my home with beer and pizza in your outstretched arms Sunday evening, that just might get you in the door.

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.