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Sunday, July 28, 2013

Goodfellows52: First installment: Philadelphia Freedom and walkin...

Goodfellows52: First installment: Philadelphia Freedom and walkin...: "Democracy is the worst form of government, except for all those other forms that have been tried from time to ...

First installment: Philadelphia Freedom and walking on hallowed ground










"Democracy is the worst form of government, except for all those other forms that have been tried from time to time."

— Winston Churchill, late British prime minister


PHILADELPHIA/GETTYSBURG —After traveling 1,200 miles through six states, countless cities and towns, and visiting the country's finest moments in its young history, I remain convinced America is still a good idea.

We visited a world-class city — Philadelphia — and stepped quietly on hallowed ground at Gettysburg, giving this family a refreshing look at our country. 

Taking pictures at Independence Hall and listening to the park service's lecture gave me a whole new perspective about the founding fathers who penned the phrase: "All men are created equal." America has been a tough act to follow after that one powerful and emotional statement was written on that hot July day.

I also understand that our nation is sprinkled with dark episodes. The end of slavery and the pathetic treatment of blacks for another 100 years after the Emancipation Proclamation was signed by Abraham Lincoln remains an ugly mark in American history. The way we treated native Americans is another travesty for a nation that cherishes equality. And still, America continues to support other nations' oppressors and exploit workers overseas for our own gain and greed.

I guess we still have a lot to learn when it comes to understanding the Constitution and the basis for it  freedom and equality. 

But Americans have the opportunity to change our attitudes and still maintain our values by voting. That is the only way it works in a republic that separates the men from the boys in big-league governments.

I am not a flag-waver who drapes himself in the glory of one of the most powerful symbols on the planet. Those stars and stripes came at a huge cost and were earned through bloodshed, commitment, and a strong notion that "all men are created equal." More than a handful signers of the Declaration of Independence died in poverty after the American Revolution ended.

How many of us would give it all up for an idea that could make the world a better place?

Not many!

When we inserted that phrase in the Declaration of Independence on July 4, 1776, our forefathers believed that the sanctity of all human life, freedom and the greater good were the priorities of a new nation that gave King George of England his walking papers.

America is a work in progress. Our wise framers of the Constitution designed the blueprint for our government that way. We have the privilege of criticizing and questioning our leaders without fear of reprisal. 

It took just four days restore my appreciation for a nation that is experiencing its highs and lows on a violent planet that also faces environmental peril.

There are moments when I think America is falling apart and coming to tragic end due to poor leadership and an endless economic recession triggered by greedy Wall Street and frivolous and cavalier banks. 

Still, a solemn walk through Gettysburg and a tour of Philly restored my faith in this nation.

In the coming days, I will discuss our whirlwind trip during a broiling week in July.

It really is a hot topic.





Sunday, July 7, 2013

Goodfellows52: That Darn, Frigging Cat

Goodfellows52: That Darn, Frigging Cat: " In ancient times cats were worshipped as gods; they have not forgotten this. "                                       ...

That Darn, Frigging Cat




                                                                                                                                      Terry Pratchett 


AUBURN, Maine — I watched through my binoculars from the back porch, hoping to catch another glimpse of the two perpetrators ravaging my garden.

I thought when I captured one groundhog that was tormenting my plants that would be the end of it, but I had hard evidence that the creatures had returned and witnessed them in the act twice.

A Have a Hart trap was set in the corner of the yard near my neighbor's fence to catch the bastards, which work in tandem. I trained my binoculars on the cage, and sure enough, the hairy groundhog began munching on a trail of broccoli. It sat on its fat ass enjoying its free dinner.

"C'mon, you son of bitch. trip that frigging trap so I can remove your fat ass from my premises, " I said to myself.

The groundhog kept gnawing away on the vegetable when a cat suddenly popped out from under the fence and behind the ravenous and unsuspecting groundhog.

I couldn't believe I was viewing the whole damn thing through my binoculars.

"What the fu-- is a cat doing there? Wait a minute, that's my fu--ing cat," I yelled from the porch.

The f-bombs continued to fly. I began carpet bombing my home with obscenities.

My stunned cat gave the shocked groundhog that look of  "what the fu#$@ are you doing here. This is my territory."

Both animals suddenly bolted in opposite directions. That darn cat ruined my chance to bag the bastard who has been swiping free vegetables from my garden.

"Thanks a lot, Tabby," I bellowed from the back porch.

Tabby is a great cat, but enjoys too much sex and brawling with other felines in the neighborhood. We have spent hundreds of dollars repairing his wounds after countless cat fights. He looks like Rocky Balboa after going 15 rounds with Apollo, and I am like Rocky's manager, Mick, cursing whenever we have to go to the vet and open our empty wallets.

And yet, he is like sentry patrolling the yard, keeping destructive critters off our property.

But at the end of this month, Tabby is going to be fixed, which means he won't like us for a month, and I will save money.

In the meantime, I will relentlessly pursue the two groundhogs. I have placed a bounty on their heads. 

I still have a good shot at capturing them — if that darn cat of mine stays away.

For the moment, though, the two slippery groundhogs have been granted a reprieve from my cat.

Just a footnote

Despite my cat's best efforts to screw up my attempts to catch and relocate a pair of pesky groundhogs, I caught one of the varmints Sunday night. He was cute little bugger, so we took him for quick ride and gently released it at an undisclosed location away from homes. You should have seen this thing bolt down a well-worn path in the woods.

Right now, I feel like a cab driver dropping off rodents to their new homes.

But my son and wife won't allow me to permanently remove the cute rats, so I have become a great humanitarian and a good friend to all animals great and small.



Saturday, July 6, 2013

Goodfellows52: Beached on the Fourth of July

Goodfellows52: Beached on the Fourth of July: " When you finally go back to your old home, you find it wasn't the old home you missed but your childhood. "   Sam Ewing ...

Beached on the Fourth of July











REVERE, Mass. — A wave of humanity shuffled past us as we sat on a stonewall facing Revere Beach on a humid July 4 night.

This was the place to spend an evening viewing fireworks from across the channel without the hassle of finding a parking space or dealing with a mob of rude people. Swampscot, Lynn, and Nahant were putting on blockbuster displays that could clearly be seen from Revere Beach. 

When we looked to our right of the beach, the town of Winthrop was also lighting up the skies just a few miles away, and yes, you could see Boston's incredible display, too. We watched it all from the comfort of a stonewall as gentle waves lapped the shoreline. There were also local, grand displays of explosives going off across Revere neighborhoods.

No Hatch Memorial Shell on the Charles River for three Mainers who avoid crowd scenes. The Boston Pops and its interpretation of the 1812 Overture by Russian composer Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky can transform a reluctant Patriot into a flag-waving citizen, but camping out two days to secure a front-row seat is not worth our efforts.

There were thousands of people wandering up and down Revere Beach boulevard as fireworks flashed all around us. Music blared from cars as traffic inched along the strip that is lined with several dives. State police patrolled the dark beach with their four-wheelers to keep the peace.

We were on a mission to seek out cool ocean sea breezes in the stifling city heat. There was a warm southerly breeze off the sandy shore, offering little relief to a sweltering public tempted to immerse themselves in the cool waters of the Atlantic.

A lot has been said and written about America's first public beach, and not all of it has been kind, but I still love the place, its fast food and the people who come from over the Boston area to spend a humid summer day.

The smells and crowds are notorious for triggering memories of the boulevard, which is one the best areas to jog or walk. And then there are beautiful woman who inspire any male runner or walker to go the distance. RHS teens staked their ownership of a stretch of wall that began in front of the MDC police station and ran all to the way Bianchi's Pizza. Kelly's Roast Beef was about a mile a way, but it was always worth the long walk to shell out a week's pay for a clam plate.

I was grateful to my family from Maine for sharing a wonderful July 4 and listening to my countless memories of beach that means so much to people who grew up in this city. We quietly watched the colorful flashes of fireworks up and down the surrounding shoreline on a typical humid night in Revere. There were hundreds of families doing the same.

Revere Beach has undergone so many restorations and transformations over a century. It endured the Blizzard of 1978, and even though the Cony Island of the East has passed into history, it is a part of me that I can't shake. Of course, I miss all those friends and family who once walked along its shoreline.

That's why I can't stay away from the place, especially on the Fourth of July.

Monday, July 1, 2013

Weather not a garden survives


"The trouble with weather forecasting is that it's right too often for us to ignore it and wrong too often for us to rely on it."  
— Patrick Young

AUBURN, Maine — Perhaps I should change the dateline of my blog to Seattle or Miami.

Maine is quickly becoming a rain forest or an Everglades. Soon, crocodiles and discarded pythons will roam Maine's streams and threaten the state's wildlife. Bugs will grow larger and more annoying, and sand traps will become quicksand as golf courses turn into raging rapids.

The rest of the nation is bone dry, and yet my yard resembles a rice patty or the Mekong Delta in Vietnam. I mowed my lawn, or should I say a wetlands where standing water is now home to one of the most  pathetic creatures in the world — the disease-carrying mosquito.

I never thought Maine had a monsoon season. Pine Tree inhabitants are waterlogged and the tips of their fingers look like prunes. The air is disgustingly humid and everybody feels like taking a shower every five minutes, and if you don't bath in this heat stay far away from me.

People in the Northeast are looking pale because the sun is shrouded by thick, water-soaked clouds. My Italian tan continues to fade away in the misty fog that blankets most of Maine.

And every night, when devastating thunderstorms roll around, I watch helplessly as buckets of water fall from the sky and inundate my garden, which is fast becoming a swamp.

For Maine, this is the seventh wettest June on record. For the state's sweaty and clammy residents, we are all playing cat and mouse with the weather as we try to get yard work done in between each soaking.

A Bermuda high is to blame for making life miserable in this part of the world. This pain-in-the-ass weather system has parked its rump off the East Coast, sucking up tropical weather  from the South that continues to drench New England. But in the Southwest, Americans are cooking eggs and cookies on scorched sidewalks in triple-digit temperatures. 

There are two hideous weather extremes at work in this great nation. Conspiracy freaks could have a field day with these screwy weather patterns. Ricky Nelson would have to change the lyrics to his "Garden Party" medley if he was caught in this weeklong downpour.

There is no question the lack of sun and torrential rain has stunted my garden's growth. Last year, I needed a wheelbarrow to bring all those succulent vegetables into the house each day. If our gardens don't see the light of day, then I am afraid this year's growing season is a washout.

But any farmer or gardener knows, we are all at the whim of nature, and it doesn't give a damn about any of us.

And that explains why growing vegetables will always remain a difficult challenge to those who work with soil and get their hands dirty every summer. 

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.