Goodfellows52: Pay dirt

Goodfellows52: Pay dirt: "A garden is a grand teacher. It teaches patience and careful watchfulness; it teaches industry and thrift; above all it tea...

Pay dirt

"A garden is a grand teacher. It teaches patience and careful watchfulness; it teaches industry and thrift; above all it teaches entire trust."

Gertrude Jekyll

AUBURN — I spent the afternoon playing in dirt like a child enjoying himself being caked in mud.

Dirt is cool stuff. Life comes from it, and as General Electric used to say in its commercials, they bring good things to life.

So don't I!

Carefully cultivated soil is life. During the winter, I have fed my loyal worms and hungry soil orange, potato and banana skins, along with wood ash. In the summer, I am like mole, digging potholes throughout my garden to bury scraps like egg shells and coffee grinds.

We are just a few weeks away from the growing season in New England. Nothing like fresh summer vegetables, and I grow the best stuff right here in my community. My tomatoes taste like sweet pares with little acidity that you get in the store-bought stuff

But if it wasn't for this beautiful dirt, I would have to rely on a grocery store to purchase vegetables from distant states.

No thanks. That's like buying fish from China. Really!

Right about now, some knucklehead is saying to himself, "Who has got the frigging time for this crap."

Hence the word — knucklehead.

Shut the frigging TV off and go outside and look what Mother Nature handed you in your own backyard. Start gardening and I guarantee you will loose weight and feel better, as well getting in touch with the Neanderthal side of your origins.

What do you mean you don't have time. Stay off Facebook and ignore Twitter and you will have time to get your damn hands dirty and get a good dose of vitamin D. The end result will be produce that is not tainted by pesticides.

The warm days that have finally arrived draw me to my yard and garden that is in dire need of tilling.

Terri and I teamed up to plant fresh lettuce in pots and decided to grow it inside our back porch, which faces the sun and often acts like a plant nursery. We laughed and discussed Anthony's night out at the prom as we plunged our hands into a fresh bag of potting soil. We also purchased Swiss chard and sun flower seeds and planted them as well in small trays. The sun flowers are Russian giants that grow to 10 feet tall.

We also spent some money on buying three new raspberry plants, which I immediately planted next to my blueberry bushes. 

In the next few days, I will knock on my next-door neighbor's door and ask to him use his industrial tiller. This beast tears apart everything in its path, aerating the soil and turning weeds into fertilizer. My lawn needs mowing every five days thanks to May's monsoons, but the grass, which offers nitrogen, is bagged and dumped the garden to smother weeds on the soil floor.

But it all comes back to good dirt that can nurtured a productive garden.

Thanks to a cold and relentless winter, the ground is still cold, but after the last weekend in May, the time will be right to plant a garden.

That's when I get down and dirty.

Goodfellows52: A night to remember

Goodfellows52: A night to remember: "If you bungle raising your children, I don't think whatever else you do matters very much." —  Jackie Kennedy ...

Goodfellows52: A night to remember

Goodfellows52: A night to remember: "If you bungle raising your children, I don't think whatever else you do matters very much." —  Jackie Kennedy ...

A night to remember

"If you bungle raising your children, I don't think whatever else you do matters very much."

— Jackie Kennedy

AUBURN — The last time I looked my son was racing across the parlor floor wearing nothing but a diaper and huge grin on his handsome face. 

That was 17 years ago.

Last night, Anthony was dressed in a tuxedo and looking more dapper and refined than James Bond — a fictional, fussy British Secret Service agent who insisted his martinis be shaken, not stirred.

Writer Ian Fleming would have been impressed by the appearance of this fine young man who decided to go it alone and attend the Edward Little High School prom without a date. That takes courage, but leaves him with many options on a warm spring evening.

Yesterday was filled with Legos, models, ships and endless trips to the park for this family of three. There were tales of pirates and long-forgotten wars. Summers were spent on Maine's pristine beaches and making numerous road trips to Boston to visit our parents.

I guess some parents look forward to the day when their children move out. I am in no hurry, especially after becoming a stay-at-home dad, working nights for a newspaper in Maine and playing army men with my son by day.

You see, raising my son never gets old for me.

Things changed in a hurry his sophomore year when he discovered high school had so much to offer. He joined this, that and the other thing and decided to become an athlete. It was his idea to take the initiative and get involved at school and in his community, with encouragement from us, of course.

Terri and I both felt pride and awe in a kid who continues to astound and impress us. If you don't feel this way about your child, you are not doing the most important job in the world right, and children always suffer from parents' aloofness.

It is not easy for me to watch him make his way in the world. We have a long and loving history between us, and if I had the money and power of a president, I would have him protected by the United States Secret Service for the rest of his life.

Allowing a child to move on in his life and make his own decisions without your interference is hard to take, especially after you spent a couple years living in fear when they begin walking. When he leaves for college, the world will witness a fearless 6-foot-3 former football player go to pieces and sob like an old woman at a funeral. A good friend said Anthony's absence will probably kill me. 

I hope my friend is wrong. I want to see how it all turns out for him.

Before Anthony took the 10-minute ride to Lost Valley — a small ski resort located in the hills of Auburn — we took a dozen pictures of the handsome lad in our green backyard. Anthony is also a ski patroler for Lost Valley, but the only terrain he would be patrolling was the dance floor on Saturday night.

Terri and I often wonder where had 17 really good years had gone and why Anthony's high school years felt as if we were racing across the galaxy in the Starship Enterprise at warp drive.

I was told that many students didn't want to attend  the event and thought the cost and all the hoopla was a waste of time. What is wrong with spending four hours being young and dancing the night away without the worry of paying a mortgage and thinking about going to work the next day?

I know all too well that we only pass this way once in our short lives. But I also understand this honor student is well on his way to doing something wonderful with his life.

Watching him don a tuxedo and spend an evening with friends was just another proud moment for his mom and dad.

And our son really does look good in a tux.