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Monday, December 23, 2013

Goodfellows52: Ice, ice baby

Goodfellows52: Ice, ice baby: “Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the ti...

Goodfellows52: Goodfellows52: Sometimes, it is the most difficult...

Goodfellows52: Goodfellows52: Sometimes, it is the most difficult...: Goodfellows52: Sometimes, it is the most difficult time of the ye... : Christmas is a time when you get homesick — even when you're home...

Ice, ice baby

“Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home.” ― Edith Sitwell

“What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness.” 
― John SteinbeckTravels with Charley: In Search of America


















AUBURN, Maine — Those demented souls, who are still holding out for a white Christmas or want to go walking in a  winter wonderland should visit the Pine Tree State, which is now freeze-dried thanks to a three-day ice storm which has pulled the plug on 100 hundred towns across the state. 

There is nearly an inch of ice on wilting limbs, and we all know how that goes — badly. 

If you want to take your chances on I-95 and don't mind bouncing off guard rails as you slide up the interstate, bring your skates or a dog sled. Everything has been coated with dangerous, solid ice. You can take in spectacular views of trees bowing to Mother Nature and electrical fires as limbs come crashing down on droopy wires. For more spectacular views, you might see transformers bursting like the rockets red glare and witness neighborhoods descend into darkness.

The police scanner is alive with mayhem. Numerous reports of limbs and downed wires are keeping police and fire departments rushing through the snow on eight-cylinder cruisers. There is no rest for weary Central Maine Power crews who have the nerve to repair power lines in the cold, damp dark.

Right now, there are 30,000 of us sitting in the cold dark and shouting obscenities that can be heard for miles around central Maine. A passing Central Maine Power truck brings us to the window and hope. The F-word is the  adjective of the day. Sentences contain three or four of the most reviled word in obscenity's lexicon. We have been stuck indoors for nearly 48 hours as we tend to our wood stoves and generators. 

You take your life into your own hands when you walk to the car or go shopping. My walkway is a miniature ice rink without a Zamboni.

If you are driving, keep an eye for downed wires and remember no power line is safe to touch — ever! Central Maine Power has been reminding Mainers of the dangers of touching a power line for years. 

No kidding! Thanks for the tip!

I am witnessing my second ice storm in the Pine Tree State. In 1998, the rented house I was living in went dark for nearly five days. This family of three was offered a place to stay in front of a warm fireplace at a friend's home for the night. We woke up early and returned to our house, which now resembled an igloo surrounded by sheets of ice.

My son was two years old, and I wasn't about to risk his health. It was time to retreat and live to fight another day with my shovel and rock salt.

That's when we decided to abandon the place and headed down a dangerous I-95. We were like refugees as we fled the cold and ice. My mother, who is no longer alive, opened the door that morning. Her jaw dropped and her eyes nearly popped out her head when she saw us on her doorstep. This family of three was seeking warmth and a hot meal.

That night, I was called back up to Maine to put out the Sun Journal. For the first time in the paper's history, we could not get the newspaper out the night before when the ice storm got its icy hands around the Pine Tree State.

In just 18 hours, I traveled back and forth to Maine to get the edition out on the streets, logging some 470 miles. 

Two days later, the landlord had the rented house up and running with generator. There was heat in the building.

Today, the ice storm of 2013 is like '98's kid brother. It isn't spectacular and we have only lost power three times for about three hours. It is not a bust, though. The city of Bangor might not get power back for nearly a week.

We have been lucky in the Lewiston-Auburn area. Let's just hope Santa won't slide off a roof and hita tree during each rooftop landing. I hate to see the cherubic fellow injure himself on that special night.

The lights are on at my home in Auburn, but all that could change with the drop of a limb.

Sunday, December 22, 2013

Goodfellows52: Sometimes, it is the most difficult time of the ye...

Goodfellows52: Sometimes, it is the most difficult time of the ye...: Christmas is a time when you get homesick — even when you're home.                                                            ...

Sometimes, it is the most difficult time of the year



Christmas is a time when you get homesick — even when you're home.                   
                                                                                                                                    — Carol Nelson
Christmas is a necessity. There has to be at least one day of the year to remind us that we're here for something else besides ourselves.  
                                                                                                                                  — Eric Sevaride
When we recall Christmas past, we usually find that the simplest things — not the great occasions - give off the greatest glow of happiness.          
                                                                                                                                          — Bob Hope

AUBURN, Maine — I won't bother taking a head count at the dinner table this Christmas. Many of my loved ones are now a long string of fond memories and images bundled together and sealed in dozens books of photographs in our bedroom. 

There are piles of pictures of aunts and uncles, grandparents and friends mugging for the camera at barbecues or at holiday dinners. There are old and recent movies of them at the beach, pool or playing cards at our grandpa's home.

And all those Christmas cards have dried up. Relatives aren't around to send those thoughtful cards in the mail. That's what happens when you sneak past the high-water mark at 50 years old.

This is the most difficult time of the calendar when it  comes to missing all those familiar faces who gave us love and hope throughout the years. We feel pressured to celebrate a Martha Stewart holiday — where the hoity-toity fold their napkins a certain way and take hours arranging a perfect dinner table or preparing a meal that costs a small fortune. We are pelted with jewelry advertisements where a man dressed in a George Armani suit springs a diamond worth the entire budget of a third-world nation on his trophy wife.

Commercialism falls on us like a tree in each December. We watch people kill each other on Black Friday over a free DVD player. Next to war, this chaotic shopping day is one of humanity's aberrations in a season where we are supposed to reach out to our fellow man instead reaching for another shopper's neck.

I can see why some of us turn to the Dark Side like happy-go-lucky Darth Vader and go around pissing off loved ones with our Scrooge-like attitudes. I won't take that sinister to approach to Christmas, which for me, is a holiday that celebrates family — or what is left of my tribe. If I choose to become a prisoner of my past, I will miss all the those wonderful moments with my wife and son.

In some ways, Christmas is giant signpost on the side of a highway, refreshing our memory that we made it through the end of the year — intact.

There are numerous reasons why I put up a freshly-cut tree in the parlor and clutter the rest of our house with sentimental ornaments, which become more precious and priceless as time passes. There is the Dunkin Donuts coffee ornament, a cherish home-made decoration our son,  and the "Our First Christmas Together" that all hang with care on our well-lit tree. And when one breaks, I lament and move on because it is a thing, but the loss of relative or parent leaves a permanent hole in my heart.

It can be a cruel world, and death is a cruel hoax played on all of us at some point in our lives. But I have witnessed so many remarkable and loving moments from my family, teachers and students in my son's school. I cheer when a student, who has given up on himself, turn his life around on a dime and eventually go on to conquer the world.

Heartbreak and depression rises exponentially during the yuletide. I witness my father's memory disappear as Alzheimer's syphons off his precious recollections. I am helpless and it is hopeless to watch a good man's life dwindle away. I want to take Alzheimer's out for walk just like Michael did to Sal Tessio in the Godfather. Alzheimer's is a diabolical disease that not only destroys the brain but also emotionally scars entire families.

But this is also the season of hope. There are many remarkable people doing wonderful things for the greater good in December.

I still don't understand why it takes a holiday to bring out the best in most of us when we should ALL be helping out our fellow men year-round. One day of benevolence make any of us  Do-gooders of the Year. But if it takes a holiday to remind the human race to get off its ass, pick up a shovel, and dig in to make the world a more palatable place to live, what the hell, I am all for it.

Just remember this on Christmas Eve. When you are sitting at the dinner table with a family member as the turkey and corn come your, keep in mind the he or she might not be present next year. Nobody has lock on longevity and time has the final say in matters of life in death. Only time will tell.

So pull out that annoying camera, snap  a few hundred pictures, treasure every precious moment you spend with your family on this Christmas day.

When Dr. Seuss penned "The Grinch Who Stole Christmas," he had it right when he wrote, "Christmas Day will always be, Just as long as we have we."




Sunday, November 24, 2013

Goodfellows52: Goodfellows52: Odds and ends: The Bearded Sox, Nov...

Goodfellows52: Goodfellows52: Odds and ends: The Bearded Sox, Nov...: Goodfellows52: Odds and ends: The Bearded Sox, November's warmth,... : " Don ' t point that beard at me, it might go o...

Teach your children well


“One child, one teacher, one book, one pen can change the world.” 

                                                                                        ― Malala Yousafzai

AUBURN, Maine — Getting behind the wheel of a classroom is like trying to fly a kite in a hurricane or outswim a tsunami.

And when you are a long-term substitute teacher who has been ordered to parachute into the middle of a school quarter, you feel like a hiker lost on Mount Katahdin during an old-fashion Maine nor’easter.

Teachers are the whole ball of wax, and if a teacher doesn’t have lessons lined up and establish a provisional government, it will be a long 75 minutes for everybody in that room — and there will be anarchy.

I have had the privilege of teaching five classes – American Literature and Senior Writing – at Edward Little High School for the past few months. I was given the keys to the classroom until a wonderful teacher returned after coping with a personal problem.

It has been a dizzying 60 days. Dozens of students walked in and out of my classroom, placing a variety of demands on me. I spent hours pleading, cajoling and coaxing students to turn in work. I listened to students plea bargain their cases when their work was tardy. I thought of creating an appellate court to hear each student’s plea, hoping the judges would lessen my burdens. But just when I thought students turned a deaf ear to me or found me as interesting as watching paint dry, the work started flowing in, and all of a sudden, I experienced the endless joy of correcting papers. I cheered and hoorayed students who turned in a well-written essay or miraculously pulled off an A on a test. I told them they were wonderful human beings, and I meant every word of it. And when students fell behind, I wanted to bribe them with great deals like free pizza for a lifetime or gas card at a local filling station. But as a last resort, I was tersely warned them that flunking a course does not do a body good. Mention san “F” — that dreaded letter in the alphabet to all students — and watch the essays start appearing on your desk.

I have been that dedicated and besides, somebody had to get the job done, and that would be me.

So I held my ground and promised myself I would not allow this two-month stint to act as a corrosive and eat away my brain. I was working two full-time, rewarding jobs, and there were moments when this sleep-deprived teacher had day dreams of my bed and soft, fluffy pillows as Mozart’ Eine kleine Nachtmusik played on in the background.

It took a week to get my bearings and right a ship that was taking on water. Before I was given the green light to take the helm, this particular classroom was like a revolving door at a Las Vegas variety show. Several substitutes made brief appearances in front of the podium before I moved and set up shop in Room 209.

Of course, the first two weeks was sort of like the Rodgers and Hamerstein’s show tune: “Getting to Know You.” I was being vetted by students as I lectured during each period. My every move was scrutinized. I became a public figure who found himself under a microscope.

I was on my own, but I am capable of thinking on my feet and welcomed the opportunity to “wing it” in all five courses, and I enjoyed being a one-man show.

Over the next two months, I was introduced to many fine students who take their studies seriously, and that makes my life easier in the classroom. And those students who fell behind inspired and drove me to find unique ways to teach the subject matter.

For those of you who think dedicated teachers are living the dream because they have summers and holidays off, I dare all know-it-alls to take the reins of a classroom. This is no job for the timid or those who lack charisma or public speaking skills. If you don’t deliver, students will see it, and you will be held accountable for being inept.

I also felt a moral obligation to get the information across to all students and try to make them understand that knowledge is a way out and up in a work force where education is a categorical imperative.

So I jumped into this melting pot of diverse personalities and classroom melodrama. I tried to keep students interested in Stephen King’s “The Body,” a story where profanity is rampant. But King’s book takes on child abuse and does a wonderful job painting a picture of four boys who are forced to go it alone in life.

The writing classes were also a challenge. I gave sporadic lectures about how words start wars, bring peace and inspire people across the planet. We discussed one particular phrase: “All men are created equal.” I told them this sentence in the Declaration of Independence helped trigger America’s Civil War and eventually set the bar for all humanity for the past two centuries.

I did my darndest to make students understand writing is like being a sculptor. Putting words on a blank piece of paper requires thought, patience and creativity. I saw this process done well in many papers that reached my desk.

Several students asked me, that’s right — me — to help them to sculpt their college essays or write a recommendation. I considered charging $100 for each edited essay or well-written recommendation, but I knew that would be unethical. I was honored by students’ requests and would do headstands to help out any student who wants to pursue a college education.

Each student is unique and they all got under my skin. I came to appreciate them and their different and sometimes multiple personalities. I will miss their daily interaction with me. They are a fine bunch.

I make no apologies for how I ran the show. Teachers aren’t there to become good friends with their students. We are role models and mentors, and that dividing line between student and teacher should never be crossed.

I have nothing but respect for these students. I hope they feel the same about me and for the privilege of getting free education.

Sunday, November 3, 2013

Goodfellows52: Odds and ends: The Bearded Sox, November's warmth,...

Goodfellows52: Odds and ends: The Bearded Sox, November's warmth,...: " Don ' t point that beard at me, it might go off ” — Groucho Marx AUBURN, Maine — Forget the bonuses and trophie...

Odds and ends: The Bearded Sox, November's warmth, Fort Williams, and thoughts of summer


— Groucho Marx

AUBURN, Maine — Forget the bonuses and trophies! The Red Sox management would be doing the right thing by having the entire team deloused for winning the World Series.

Those beards have to go. Really! Get the razor out and have these ZZ Top refugees shave off their facial hair that looks like an overgrown forest hanging from their chins.

I understand team unity, but I can't image dealing with all that moss draping over my chest. I can't believe all that growth didn't distract them in the batter's box.  A simple patch on my jersey to demonstrate team spirit works for me.

The irascible Dick Williams would never allow a Red Sox player on the diamond with a beard like that in 1967.

Can you imagine the effort required to maintain their hairy faces and the increased cost of shampoo to make sure their beards are more bouncy and manageable.

Youz guys won the World Series and dealt the Cards another loss in the postseason so go visit your local barber shop for an old-fashion shave. Youz guys can afford it.

I once grew a mustache and that touched off a round of barbs directed at me. I shave every three days to keep that Don Johnson look just in case they revive "Miami Vice."

Turn the clock back 30 or 40 years and no manager in baseball would tolerate long hair or beards that could give the sleep Rumpelstiltskin a run for his money.

According the Associated Press, the Sox will shave their beards for promotion. How about cutting it all off for fans who believe in a clean-cut, Marine appearance. You don't need a paycheck to look good. Just ask the guys and gals who serve our country.

But this America — the home of the free — and bearded Major Leaguers in dire need of a shave.


No more garden party

The garden is done and November's chilly hands are reaching out to all of New England.

How would I rate this year's crop? It was good, and as usual, some vegetables came across with the goods and others failed to produce.

That's the life of a small-time farmer who knows he is at the mercy and whim of Mother Nature — that stubborn dame of weather.

When thoughts turn to summer

I had the pleasure of covering a state cross country meet at Twin Brooks Recreation Facility, which is a wide-open swath of land that serves Cumberland and surrounding communities.

http://www.sunjournal.com/news/local-sports/2013/11/03/cross-country-running-lewiston-earns-second-state/1446583

There was non-stop sunshine as temperatures hovered around the mid 60s during the 3.1-mile races.

This facility is also open in the winter for avid cross country skiers who enjoy traversing this expansive landscape and gives me one more good reason to live in the Pine Tree State.

But you know about what they say about the weather in New England — "Just wait a minute."

The cold air has returned, and despite strong sunshine, it is damn chilly out there.

When winter closes in, I can't help but think of summer, the garden, and our adventures around the Northeast.

In late October, we visited Fort Williams in Cape Elizabeth, a wealth community littered with beautiful parks and other tourist destinations.

This is the place to go for a short hike around the former military outpost that overlooks part of Casco Bay and the rest of the Atlantic Ocean.

Pack or buy a lunch, find an open bench and enjoy a postcard view of the sea.

According to www.capeelizabeth.com, "On April 13, 1899, President McKinley named the one-time subpost of Fort Preble, Cape Elizabeth's first military fortification, Fort Williams. Named after Brevet Major General Seth Williams, Fort Williams grew to be a tremendous military asset during World War II. Besides protecting the shoreline of Cape Elizabeth, the infantry and artillery units provided the Harbor Defense for Portland. After the war, many of the forts in Casco Bay were closed, including Fort Williams, which traded in its defense of the coast for caretaker status and Army Reserve accommodations. Fort Williams was officially closed and deactivated on June 30, 1963."

"Although often a place full of runners, bikers, baseball games, and picnics, Fort Williams has managed to maintain some of its historic past. When the Town of Cape Elizabeth purchased the beautiful 90+/- acre park on December 1, 1964 for $200,000, the old military buildings became Town property as well. Along with the various batteries is Goddard Mansion. Although not in the condition it was when Colonel John Goddard and his family lived in it during the mid to late 1800s, the walls of the great mansion still stand high on the hill overlooking Fort Williams."

Pictures tell the whole story about Fort Williams, and here are few that we took in October.

Enjoy!


















Saturday, October 19, 2013

Goodfellows52: A vote to end stupidity and allowing common sense ...

Goodfellows52: A vote to end stupidity and allowing common sense ...: "He knows nothing and thinks he knows everything. That points clearly to a political career."                                 ...

A vote to end stupidity and allowing common sense to prevail


"He knows nothing and thinks he knows everything. That points clearly to a political career."
                                        George Bernard Shaw 



AUBURN, Maine — Frustrated citizens let us stand and give the United States Congress  a rousing round of applause for cleaning up their self-inflicted mess that made the United States appear like a house of cards and the laughing stock of the world. 

Federal workers are back on the job and national parks and monuments are open for business, but that doesn't mean there are no hard feelings between the public and its leaders.

It took over two weeks for our unreliable leaders to figure out that shutting down a government and dragging their heels on raising the debt ceiling wasn't good politics. This debacle was brought to you by a group of self-righteous fools who ended up drawing the ire of their fed-up constituents.

Let's hope citizens who do vote will channel their resentment and disgust at the polls when they cast their ballots.


Never forget that these class clowns made a mockery of our government and shut down a nation in a fruitless and reckless attempt to defund Obamacare that, by the way, was upheld by the Supreme Court.


Of course, there were a few congressmen with the horse sense to put an end to rampant stupidity that was precipitated by a rogue element from within the Republican Party.  You have to hand it to Tea Party members for bringing down the House and Senate with their warped convictions.


But American citizens weren't the only ones shaking their heads. This fruitless attempt to dump Obamacare and refusing to raise the debt ceiling triggered world-wide condemnations from Germany, China and France.


I was proud to see President Obama wouldn't budge on the issue and I cheered when the Tea Party was slapped back and received its comeuppance. 

Sure, congress and the president kicked our budget dilemma down the road and a sequel is already in production and will hit the big screens in February if our leaders can't find common ground and come to a reasonable decision.

That's where you come in — the American voter.   So please don't forget the "Hole in the Wall" gang at the polls because this rogue element doesn't care about its citizens or the harm these out-of-touch men have done to a great country's reputation, character and determination.











Saturday, October 5, 2013

Goodfellows52: Feet of clay on Capitol Hill

Goodfellows52: Feet of clay on Capitol Hill: "He knows nothing and thinks he knows everything. That points clearly to a political career."                                ...

Feet of clay on Capitol Hill


"He knows nothing and thinks he knows everything. That points clearly to a political career."
                                                                                                                          George Bernard Shaw


AUBURN, Maine — If you couldn't come up with a definitive answer to Congress's buffoonery this past week, request a brain scan from your family physician to explain why you are oblivious to a shutdown that is paralyzing a nation still suffering from a wobbling economy.

For those of you who live under a rock or are inebriates shaking off a yearlong hangover, thousands of federal employees are not getting paid and have swelled the ranks of the unemployed.

According to NBC.com, the feds are losing $12 million an hour. That adds up to $300 million a day or $1.6 billion a week.

A conservative friend of mine just snickers at the entire debacle and believes the shutdown will lower the deficit. It won't take you long to figure which corner he is in when it comes to politics. It was a smart-ass remark — especially when people are unemployed. The deficit will continue to grow because Congress, for some absurd reason, is still collecting a check.

The answer is clear. The 535 guys and gals who work for you on Capitol Hill have taken a long nap as America slides in into a sea of despair and disrepair.

This Congress is like the whining kid who walks off with his football because he is frustrated with the outcome of a game.

The Tea Party has sabotaged its own party and Boehner is left holding the bag as panicking moderates can't get it together to put an end to a stalemate that should have never occurred.

There are numerous issues that need to be addressed in this nation, but throwing a money wrench into the federal budget is not sound decision making.

I also believe the Obama administration has done a poor job explaining the new health care plan, but that doesn't excuse Congress's efforts to undermine it.

I will make it clear again — it is the law. How hard is that for the GOP to figure that out.

The U.S. government should not be used a ransom note because a group of Republicans are simply unhappy. You have to wonder how many lobbyists are lining members of Congress's pockets with silver and gold in effort to shelve the president's policy.

The Tea Party should go back to drinking coffee. These guys are only good for a good laugh.

What I find outrageous, and I am surprised a majority of our citizens haven't felt the same, is these inept leaders are members of of this government, and they have no problem condemning it as evil and immoral. These so-called leaders have made a career out of finger-pointing and creating fear and animosity, which I think has weakened our nation and has become fodder for late-night comedians who are delivering punch lines at the expense of this nation's leaders.

I know there is a painful price to pay in politics when any leader takes a stand. But if a politician doesn't take stand at some point, then he is just another leader who just goes with the flow, and we seem to be electing a lot this sort lately. 

Americans continue to scrape the bottom of the barrow when they vote, and this is what you get on the floor of Congress.

We should all be appalled and ashamed our leaders. I know I am. Remember this pathetic episode in American politics when you vote!

















Sunday, September 29, 2013

Goodfellows52: Shut it down, Mr. President

Goodfellows52: Shut it down, Mr. President: "Suppose you were an idiot, and suppose you were a member of Congress; but I repeat myself."                               ...

Shut it down, Mr. President


"Suppose you were an idiot, and suppose you were a member of Congress; but I repeat myself."
                                                                                                                                 Mark Twain



AUBURN, Maine — For those of you who are laughing or sobbing uncontrollably at a Congress that doesn't work and play well with others, enjoy the show that never ends in American politics.

This cinematic production has all the melodrama of a film noir movie that has been playing at theaters ever since President Obama was elected. Congress has put on a quite spectacle that is probably equally amusing to the rest of the world, too. 

Sure, Congress's stupidity is certainly entertaining, but their inability to do something, anything, constructive has left us all out in the cold and wondering why this governing body is still collecting a check.

How can America can be taken seriously when our nation's leaders act like a bunch of toddlers in a sandbox?

I campaigned for the president and I am probably the GOP's worst nightmare — a displaced Massachusetts Democrat who lives in the Pine Tree State.

Believe it or not, I still believe in the value of political parties with different ideologies. Whether you are a Republican, Democrat or an independent, your voice is heard at polls. But when our leaders can't find common ground, compromise, and make appropriate decisions for the greater good, you have to ask yourself what the hell are they doing there on Hill.

Right now, the Republicans appear delusional. They are now holding our government hostage because they don't like Obamacare or the president. And the GOP is allowing the Tea Party (but what is really in the tea) to incite such insanity.

Fine! There is no love lost between the president or the GOP, but that doesn't mean unhappy Republicans are entitled to use the U.S. government as ransom to achieve their political agenda.

Mr. President, shut it down now! 

If the Republicans can't understand that their foolishness will trigger a serious round of unemployment and possibly a worldwide economic meltdown, then let the GOP live with their blunders.

It will cost them at the polls.

Sir, these guys  don't realize Obamacare is the law and was upheld by the U.S. Supreme Court.

If Republicans are frightened by the president's healthcare plan, then run for office and try to repeal the law.

Good luck, though!

If the government does indeed close its doors thanks to John Boehner and his group of misguided chowder heads, Obamacare will begin on Oct. 1 anyway — because it is the law.

How can these guys call themselves lawmakers when they don't understand the law?

I think our national leaders have become great entertainers, but when the U.S. government closes up shop and Social Security checks aren't mailed, constituents won't find this sideshow amusing anymore.

Enough with this nonsense from political leaders who lack the common sense to know what it right!

Mr. President, just close it down!

Tuesday, September 17, 2013

Goodfellows52: Funeral for a friend

Goodfellows52: Funeral for a friend: Affirmation To grow old is to lose everything. Aging, everybody knows it. Even when we are young, we glimpse it sometimes, and nod o...

Funeral for a friend

Affirmation

To grow old is to lose everything.
Aging, everybody knows it.
Even when we are young,
we glimpse it sometimes, and nod our heads
when a grandfather dies.
Then we row for years on the midsummer
pond, ignorant and content. But a marriage,
that began without harm, scatters
into debris on the shore,
and a friend from school drops
cold on a rocky strand.
If a new love carries us
past middle age, our wife will die
at her strongest and most beautiful.
New women come and go. All go.
The pretty lover who announces
that she is temporary
is temporary. The bold woman,
middle-aged against our old age,
sinks under an anxiety she cannot withstand.
Another friend of decades estranges himself
in words that pollute thirty years.
Let us stifle under mud at the pond's edge
and affirm that it is fitting
and delicious to lose everything. 







Debra Ann Johnson's last visit to our home in June



PORTLAND, Maine — We buried a good friend and sister-in-law at Forrest City Cemetery on a Monday afternoon.

The clouds gave way to bright sunshine as a few mourners said kind words about Debra Ann Johnson. Dark skies returned as teary-eyed friends and family reluctantly left the cemetery to go on living without her. 

When somebody like Debra Ann Johnson passes, I feel shortchanged, even cheated. And please don't bother explaining the process of death, grief and the most overused and pathetic word when it comes to accepting death — closure. I will look the other way and ignore you. Closure doesn't exist. You just live with the pain that comes from loss. 

Being the last man standing in this fickle life really means experiencing the anguish of watching wonderful souls march into eternity, leaving you behind with memories and sadness. It can suddenly become an empty world when loved ones vanish over time.

Debra Ann stood up for me when I needed emotional support. And here I was standing beside her graveside to honor a mother who raised three fine sons and still found compassion and kindness to reach out to her sister, Terri.

I have only known Debra Ann for five years. It was a short friendship, but I know the bond will last a lifemine.

Debra Ann had a positive influence on our lives. She was a remarkable piece of nature's work because she found a way to move on despite her ups and downs. But Debra Ann was a woman of conviction and persevered no matter what life threw at her.

Her first priority was her family, and that is why I love and respect her. She kept it together for her family, and that says something about this woman who had the capacity to make her world a better place for her offspring.

Talk about courage.

My courage was waning as I waited for Terri to emerge in one piece from life-saving back surgery. Debbie and her family came to my rescue after making the long trip from Lincoln. They sat with me for hours in a waiting room to help me hold it together. Debra Ann had her own numerous responsibilities, but she put her life on hold for an entire day. She wanted to be at Terri's beside when she awoke. 

Sometimes, families drift away as the years roll along. Debbie Johnson brought us together, and our reunion continues to this day as I to meet the rest of Debra Ann's family.

Debra Ann Johnson, who was born Oct. 15, 1965 and died on Sept. 10, 2013, didn't receive medals or become a celebrity for making family her first priority in life. But she did have the love of a grateful family.

I won't say so long, Debra Ann. As far as we are concerned, you are alive and well in our hearts.

Sunday, September 8, 2013

Goodfellows52: Autumn closes in on my garden

Goodfellows52: Autumn closes in on my garden: " A garden is a grand teacher. It teaches patience and careful watchfulness; it teaches industry and thrift; above all it teaches ent...

Autumn closes in on my garden






AUBURN — You can't eat flowers, and that explains why I don't focus on planting roses or tulips.

But I went ahead and planted sun flowers, anyway.

This season, which got off to a rough start with 20 days of rain in June,  I tried growing sun flowers by seed. Two poked through the soil and survived to grow 10 feet.

The twin Russian giants tower over my garden as cars slow down and their occupants give me a thumbs up when they see sun flowers, putting smile on this proud Green Thumb's face.

Still, I concentrate on vegetable gardening simply because I enjoy consuming organic rabbit food, which is not tainted by deadly pesticides and fertilizers. I must confess that I use one pesticide, Garden 8, sparingly to ward off aphids and cucumber beetles. 

I enjoy toiling in the soil and watching thing grow.

I have rigged myself for silent running — just like a submarine does when it goes deep or is creeping up on an enemy. I shut off the damn TV, dream of taking a hammer to my annoying phone and pull the plug on your computer for 48 hours. I have discovered that there are plenty of hours in the day to get my hands dirty.

I save money, lose weight, and enjoy the fruits of my labor. I have built my own Shangri-la and enjoy getting down and dirty with nature and all its mystery.

Trust me on this.

Sure, I have been frustrated by the weather, bugs and other varmints that treat my garden like a buffet. But I am always surprised at the taste of my home-grown tomatoes and remain the envy of my good neighbors who are often on the receiving end of a bag of vegetables.

But the cool winds of September remind me that another garden is on its last leg and another summer is fading away.

Last year, an Auburn police cruiser was riding by the yard. He stopped and complimented me on my garden.

"Officer, you know your need is two fresh, prize-winning summer squash," I said.

"Are you kidding," the officer said.

I walked over and handed him the squash. I told him to dice them up, add olive oil, butter, bread crumbs and bundle the squash up in aluminum foil and throw the vegetables on the grill.

"No kidding," the officer said. "Thanks."

"Hey, it is always good to grease the police," I said.

We both laughed. I discovered that gardening is also a great way to build community relations with local law enforcement, too.

Saturday, September 7, 2013

Goodfellows52: Never speak ill of the dead, and a stroll through ...

Goodfellows52: Never speak ill of the dead, and a stroll through ...: “Remember, remember always, that all of us, and you and I especially, are descended from immigrants and revolutionists.”  ―  Franklin D....

Never speak ill of the dead, and a stroll through the Western Promenade

“Remember, remember always, that all of us, and you and I especially, are descended from immigrants and revolutionists.” 


A view from above of Hadlock Field and the city of Portland. 


A tour of majestic homes that surround the Western Prom. 
 

Above-ground crypts and tombstones of American veterans.







This where it all started for my son — Maine Medical Center. 


PORTLAND — Anyone with a fat wallet can travel around the globe to visit historic landmarks that fill the pages of history books, but if you look hard enough, there are hidden relics that determined the fate of a young nation right in your own backyard. 

When you talk about recorded history, spend an hour or two at a cemetery in your neighborhood — or seek out unkept graveyards sitting off dirt roads in the middle of nowhere. We don't find cemeteries creepy, and we don't' wander rows of 100-year-old tombstones seeking out lost souls who might haunt these final stops of the dead. I have no interest in the macabre, but all those old headstones reveal tiny pieces of history about people who helped shape this nation. I remain a firm skeptic of the paranormal.

If we come upon a cemetery and have the time, we get out our camera and visit those who have gone before us. We make it a point to visit Old Burying Point Cemetery in Salem, Mass., on Halloween, and reading the headstones never gets old for this family. We have visited Anderson Cemetery in Windham, Maine, my wife's hometown. There is a long gravel road that runs for about a quarter of mile before you find it. An unmarked Indian burial ground is nearby. Anderson features veterans from the American Revolution and an above-ground crypt built into the side of mound that might give you a chill up your spine.

After visiting a classmate of Anthony's at Maine Medical Center, we decided to walk the Western Promenade. Anthony entered this life 17 years ago at Maine Med., and here we were again. I look at the hospital and can't believe it has been 17 years since my precious son dropped in on us. We are pretty lucky, and Anthony reminds his mom and dad of our good fortune every day.

It was about a three-mile walk around promenade, and it was there we stumbled upon Western Cemetery. My wife and son thought it was creepy. I found it restful, serene and beautiful. It's in the heart of Portland and the perfect place to rest for all eternity.

This nearly 200-year-old graveyard is surrounded by grand houses that cost a fortune. You would have to own your own bank to build these stately homes and  maintain their well-kept gardens in today's market. The brick inlays, massive porches, and cupolas always makes me wonder who lives in such luxury.

Before we walked through those quiet, affluent neighborhoods, we strolled along the promenade's long paths and enjoyed wide-open views of Portland and Hadlock Field — home to the Portland Sea Dogs. We gazed up at a statue of Thomas Brackett Reed — statesman, Civil War veteran and a former Maine Attorney General.

Down the road was Western Cemetery, which is surrounded by rod-iron gates. There was nobody there as we walked among the dead against a threatening, gray sky. There are worn-out headstones and above-ground crypts that are slowly being reclaimed by the ravenous earth. Some of the tombstones marked the graves of War of 1812 veterans like William Pollies Jr., an ensign, Richard Hunnewell, Joseph Glazier, and Charles Taylor, who was a member of the Fifth Maine, which saw action in the Civil War.

All this history and greenery was right in the heart of Portland, and all we did was take a long winding path through a park to discover it all.

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.