Goodfellows52: A fine how do you do from Old Man Winter

Goodfellows52: A fine how do you do from Old Man Winter: "Maine is a joy in the summer. But the soul of Maine is more apparent in the winter."  Paul Theroux ...

A fine how do you do from Old Man Winter

"Maine is a joy in the summer. But the soul of Maine is more apparent in the winter." 

Paul Theroux

 AUBURN — Winter left its calling card two days before the new year arrived.

Old Man Winter wanted to assure residents of New England that he was still in the neighborhood and doesn’t like to be forgotten.

The weather guys and gals got this wrong again, but that is nothing new when it comes to Maine’s fickle forecasters.

Of course, weather reports varied just like Trump’s inane Tweets. We were on the receiving end of 19 whopping inches of snow in western Maine. It took 15 minutes with two guys (me and my son) manning  shovels to clear the walkway to the street.

It is miserable, heavy snow that puts your heart through a stress test.

But, and I hate to say this, we needed the white stuff after a summer drought that I had never witnessed in my lifetime.

For the morons who don’t believe in global warming, it was the hottest year ever on the planet, and if we continue to treat the globe like a toilet, watch Florida disappear thanks to rising tides due to a melting polar ice cap. I can’t fix stupid and I fear for the environment when an uninformed and inept presidency is sworn in at the White House on Jan. 20.

China is creating 10 miles of desert each year because of its neglect of its natural resources. You have to ask yourself what is the sense of being an economic powerhouse if a nation can’t drink its water due to rampant pollution. I guess having a fat wallet can justify ignorance.

Anyway, enjoy the snow and Old Man Winter’s chilly touch as we head into another year.

Goodfellows52: Clinton CLEARLY the right choice

Goodfellows52: Clinton CLEARLY the right choice: “Let us never forget that government is ourselves and not an alien power over us. The ultimate rulers of our democracy are not a President...

Clinton CLEARLY the right choice

“Let us never forget that government is ourselves and not an alien power over us. The ultimate rulers of our democracy are not a President and senators and congressmen and government officials, but the voters of this country.” 

President Franklin D. Roosevelt

Editor’s note: Notice that FDR did not use I or me in this profound quote. No wonder why he was elected four terms. 

AUBURN — There is a candidate running for the United States presidency that begins most of his sentences with “I” and ends them with “me,” and you never hear the word “we” during his endless tirades filled with insults.

For the past year, the man with the fat wallet and big mouth has been spewing barbs about anybody and has insulted most of the inhabitants of the planet.

His name is emblazoned on buildings across New York City so I won’t mention him by name because it makes sane people nauseous.

I don’t know how voters cannot turn a deaf ear to a man whose locker room talk shocked an entire nation. He is certainly no gentleman or diplomat.

He says he is going to make America great again. I always thought this nation is a swell place to live. He also wants to build a wall on the Mexican border, but I guess he doesn’t know there is a great big wall to keep people, who are desperately seeking a better life, out of a country that was founded on people fleeing poverty and social upheaval. 

Not only that, he makes fun of them and deems them all a nation of miscreants.

And his verbal assaults on the human race do not stop there.

His acerbic comments should concern all constituents who will decide between Hillary Clinton and a narcissist who is only interested in himself and treats this campaign like a rock concert. By the way, if you haven’t heard, Clinton was cleared by the FBI over recent emails that were discovered on another computer.

Narcissists make horrible leaders because it is all about them, and when you run for president, it should be about us — although most of congress has forgotten that, too.

It is all about “We the people,” not “I’m the guy.” This guy forgets he has congress to deal with — if he is elected — and there are checks and balances that were installed in the Constitution to prevent despots from screwing up the works.

If only Jefferson and Washington could see how far we have fallen when it comes to electing leaders with some common sense.

For those of us who don’t agree with the “it is all about me” candidate, you can vote for the other gal. You know where I stand and I can’t tell you who to vote for in this odd election. You are all grown-ups now and must make your own decisions.

The election was also about character and substance and there is no hard evidence that those prerequisites exist in the Republican campaign.

I decided I wouldn't vote for him the first time he opened his mouth.

I doubt all of his supporters are deplorable, but I do know he is despicable as well as uniformed.

Goodfellows52: Walking off and away from Trump

Goodfellows52: Walking off and away from Trump: "There is pleasure in the pathless woods, there is rapture in the lonely shore, there is society where none intrudes, by the deep sea...

Walking off and away from Trump

"There is pleasure in the pathless woods, there is rapture in the lonely shore, there is society where none intrudes, by the deep sea, and music in its roar; I love not Man the less, but Nature more."

Lord Byron

LISBON, Maine — We needed to take a long walk in the woods after watching Donald Trump say nothing and loom over Hillary Rodham Clinton like a stalker in a dark alley in Sunday’s debate.

Civility was not on Sunday night’s agenda when the two competitors went head to head for 90 painful minutes. As a family, we are appalled that the man with his filthy mouth and lack of substance is still in the running for president.

I have no confidence in a presidential candidate who has no respect for the opposite sex and no concept of the greater good.

Yeah, I am a liberal democrat who will support Mrs. Clinton despite the email controversy.

Why? None of your damn business! Let’s just say you can’t reason with a narcissist — ever! After all, I am originally from from Massachusetts — and that’s Kennedy country.

Watch PBS' Frontline episode called "The Choice" and you will get the big picture of this horse race.

I voted once for a GOP candidate — and I still regret it. But this candidate might just tear apart the Republican Party with his senseless tirades.

While Republicans spent the weekend abandoning the Donald like passengers on the sinking Titanic, we decided to cleanse our souls of the exasperating Mr. Vile and drove to a place where the soothing waters  of the rambling Sabattus River washed away our disgust of a man who treats the Oval Office like a big joke.

My son was home for college and a long walk on the Paper Mill Trail was the right prescription to clear our heads of the traumatic experience of watching another round inanity from the overbearing GOP contender.

The Paper Mill Trail is our favorite haunt. It is paved, safe and the sound of the river’s waters can wipe away anxiety from stressed-out voters who experienced PTSD after Sunday's debate.

The walk is easy and the inclines give you a good workout. Right now, the colors of the foliage are brilliant on the trail and the stunning shades made the three off us feel pretty damn good on a chilly autumn day.

The cool air and the sweet sound of fast-moving water put a spring in our step on the trail where many other walkers had the same idea.

We felt refreshed after our two-mile walk in the sunshine and hopeful that the citizens of this nation will make an informed decision.

But then again, stranger things have happened in politics and some voters are easily swayed by a candidate's empty promises and antics.

Goodfellows52: A picture-perfect fair

Goodfellows52: A picture-perfect fair: CUMBLERLAND — It is a wonderful thing when you when make someone happy — especially if she is your wife. Last weekend, we went to ...

A picture-perfect fair

CUMBLERLAND — It is a wonderful thing when you when make someone happy — especially if she is your wife.

Last weekend, we went to an agricultural fair, which most Mainers do this time of year. 

It is a delightful ritual. What’s wrong with fresh air, smelly farm animals and food that is guaranteed to raise your cholesterol count to the point where your family doctor advises that you will be dead in 24 hours.

But I am not a native Mainer. I am a transplant from the Greater Boston area, who went to the Topsfield Field Fair every five years, which means I went twice as a boy. Hard-core Mainers would affectionally refer to me as a Masshole (that’s an asshole from Massachusetts). But I am OK with that and I am loved by all.

My wife is from Maine stock, a Windham  girl, if you will.

In the Pine Tree State, there are 24 fairs across Maine as summer wanes and autumn makes its chilly approach in September.

The Big One — Fryeburg Fair — draws thousands of visitors in search of fried dough, cotton candy, and a chance to bet on a horse. This harness raising not thoroughbreds.

We usually attend Cumberland Fair, which is just outside of Portland and about 40 minutes from our home.

It was a cloudy, raw day, but the smell of fries, sausages, and freshly baked pies, combined with carnies calling out to patrons to take a chance on their games, the absence of the sun didn’t get us down because we were in such a good mood. 

I was on a sugar high, anyway, after eating home-made maple fudge. It did melt in my mouth and I has this urge to wash it down with a quart of milk.

We played one game, and I managed to pick off two balloons on three tries with heavy darts, and Terri was awarded a plastic necklace.

After beating a carny at her own game and winning plastic jewelry, I was on a roll and my thoughts turned to the lottery.

We walked on when we saw a husband-and-wife team doing caricatures of fair goers.

My curiosity got the better of me and I persuaded my wife to have the artists draw my wife.

The artists tried to cajole me into a siting. I wasn’t shy, but I felt this was her moment in the sun.

Terri smiled as passerbys peaked in and watched as a pleasant man etched out the facial features of her face with a thick pencil.

When he was done, people nearly applauded the drawing. Terri was pleased and I was happy that she was happy.

She smiled all the way home as I sipped on apple cider and eyed another piece of maple fudge.

Goodfellows52: Remembering Peter and all the victims of 9-11

Goodfellows52: Remembering Peter and all the victims of 9-11: My son, Anthony, took this photo of Peter Morgan Goodrich's name at World Trade Center 1 during a trip to New York City last year. ...

Goodfellows52: Remembering Peter and all the victims of 9-11

Goodfellows52: Remembering Peter and all the victims of 9-11: "Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that."            ...

Remembering Peter and all the victims of 9-11

My son, Anthony, took this photo of Peter Morgan Goodrich's name at World Trade Center 1 during a trip to New York City last year.

"Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that." 

                                                                                                                      — Martin Luther King, Jr.

I got up this morning, had a cup coffee, scanned the newspaper and admired my yard and garden on a muggy summer day.

Peter Goodrich has not enjoyed any of those simple pleasures for the past 15 years.

He was killed on Sept. 11, 2001 — a casualty of terrorism. First responders and citizens enveloped in the rumble's dust are still dying from the attacks.

He was a passenger on the second plane that slammed into the Twin Towers in New York City. 

Like millions of Americans, I witnessed his murder on a clear, warm Tuesday morning on TV. I didn’t wasn’t aware the he was on that doomed United Airlines Flight 175 until a friend, who works for Stars and Stripes in Washington D.C., got in touch with me days later after the attacks.

My son and I were watching “Barney” on PBS when I switched over to watch the news where an NBC news anchor was talking about the first tower to be hit. I saw the second plane plunge into the other structure and burst into flames. I winced when people began jumping to their deaths because they couldn’t find a way down.

I remember nearly every moment of that day: The clear skies, the towers crumbling, the leapers tossing themselves out burning windows, and the silence at a restaurant when I took my 5 year old for lunch. There was an eery silence when I went food shopping that week.

Television broadcasted rescue and recovery efforts from the Twin-Towers’ ruins 24 hours a day for the next four days.

For me, Peter put a face on that horrible morning.

I was introduced to Peter Goodrich at Bates College where he was an All-American for the Bobcat track team. I interviewed him several times as a sportswriter. I wrote a column about him several days after the Towers fell. Two stories were about a memorial that was constructed near Bates’ track and another concerning his induction into the Auburn-Lewiston Sports Hall of Fame.

I spoke with Peter’s father just after the attacks. Donald Goodrich is a man of integrity and didn’t want to see retaliation and more bloodshed despite his son’s death.

I would find it impossible to turn the other cheek if my son was murdered, but Donald Goodrich saw retaliation for Peter’s death as senseless.

His mother, the late Sally Goodrich, established a scholarship in his name. She was an extraordinary woman who adored both sons. She called me and asked for permission to place my stories on her son’s scholarship web page. I told her she would have to establish a link to the Sun Journal.

She told me during the conversation that despite all that has been written about Peter, she still enjoyed re-reading the column I wrote just after 9-11 because of Peter’s quotes that I used from my earlier stories.

When I met the Bates athlete, it didn’t take me long to figure out that Peter, despite his intelligence and impressive athletic abilities, was fine young man whose humility was genuinely endearing.

He had a great sense of humor and a warm smile that could light up a field house. He was a pleasurable young man and I liked that he wasn’t a pretentious, know-it-all college kid.

He was gentlemen who went on to become a products manager. He had a promising future before fanatics murdered all those Americans.

I find it impossible to make sense of such lunacy and treachery, but that’s what separates people with strong moral fiber from killers who use a religion to justify their malevolent actions.

The nation will remember the dead and honor first responders and the military on the 15th anniversary of 9/11 on Sunday.

What have we learned since the Twin Towers crumbled to the ground?

Not much!

We are still killing terrorists who continue to murder citizens across the globe. It is a vicious cycle with no end in sight. It is a war without end as the body count continues to rise.

I know Peter would shake his head in disgust. 

Peter has never left me. 

When the anniversary of 9-11 rolls around each year, I think of him on that day and many other days.

Goodfellows52: Summer of our contentment

Goodfellows52: Summer of our contentment: "We know that in September, we will wander through the warm winds of summer's wreckage. We will welcome summer's ghost." ...

Summer of our contentment

"We know that in September, we will wander through the warm winds of summer's wreckage. We will welcome summer's ghost." 

                                                                                 — Henry Rollins

AUBURN, Maine — Our home gets uncomfortably quite when our son returns to college in September.

There are moments when I miss having him around because he is no bother and he really makes our lives worth living. We feel damn lucky that he still enjoys our company even though we annoy him sometimes with dad jokes and chores around the home.

But he still can’t get enough my home cooking. That’s why he returns like the family cat to devour dad’s dinners, which are made with tender loving care. I suspect he misses his mom, too.

Empty-nest syndrome is a thing of the past for both of us, but that vacant bedroom during semesters takes getting used to all over again— especially after we enjoyed one helluva of a summer.

This family cruised through10 states, watched a reenactment of a Civil War battle and a former Beatle strut his stuff this summer. We viewed an exhibit of salvaged items from the Titanic, took a short cruise to a slice of paradise just off the Maine coast — Peaks Island in Casco Bay — and hung out at Old Orchard where pizza and riding large waves are always on the agenda.

But there is still nothing more exciting than having my son come home for a long weekend. We ended up watching “The Magnificent Seven,” which featured an ensemble cast of Yule Brenner, Steve McQueen, James Coburn, Robert Vaughn and Eli Wallach. Elmer Bernstein’s rousing score and two scenes of heavy gun battles are worth killing two hours (pun intended), especially with my son. 

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Ahoy, Fort Williams

Spring gave winter one last nudge before we started making day trips when he came home for weekends.

There is nothing like a strong sea breeze to fill your lungs with salt air and clear your mind. A walk around Fort Williams in Cape Elizabeth is also a stroll through the past, where powerful World War II guns once manned the Maine coast.

There are splendid views of the rocky beaches and a lighthouse that lights up anyone’s soul on a cool spring day.

If you need a pick-me-up, walk around Fort Williams and enjoy one of Maine’s gems.

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End of the line

Land’s End in Harpswell is a tourist destination, but outside its doors, there is room to walk around and take in Maine’s breathtaking coast.

It’s a great place to buy a Maine sweatshirt and sit on the porch and sip on the Pine Tree State’s salt air, which is free, of course.

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Let’s do lunch

Spending a spring day wandering around Portland and having lunch with your son is a real treat. We needed our fix of clam chowder and headed for Gilbert’s Chowder House for a bread bowl of clam chowder.

We sat on the wharf and had these great discussions about life. Someone once told me it only gets better when your children get older.

I agree. but I still miss the little boy who watched with endless curiosity as his toy boats bobbed up and down on the ocean water.

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Beach baby, beach baby

Old Orchard Beach never gets old

When the surf is up, Anthony and I will remain in the water for hours riding huge waves. The sweet smells of pizza and other fried culinary delights makes the trip to this seaside community worth the hour drive. 

We also spent the day at Popham Beach riding waves and enjoying nature’s attractions. There are two forts, Baldwin and Popham, that are worth a tour of duty.
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Heading inland

I had to cover a softball game in Bethel on a Saturday afternoon. My son wanted to do some genealogy research at the Greenwood Historical Society and Museum.

It is a small town that is nestled next to Bethel, which is another small town, but their natural beauty is stunning.

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Yellow Submarine

Ringo Starr came to Bangor with an ensemble of talented musicians and had the crowd singing a rendition of “Yellow Submarine” by the end of the evening. I marveled at how this 75-year-old former Beatle still had the energy to bounce around the stage and sing so well.

Too bad the Fab Four will never perform together again. The Beatles played three miles from my home 50 years ago at Suffolk Downs in East Boston.

Sometimes, 1966 seems so long ago, but the memories remain strong.

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Lakeside retreat

We are fortunate to know an older couple who doesn’t mind sharing their camp at Bear Pond in Hartford.

Bear Mountain looms over the lake, which is warm and refreshing.

The three of us love sitting my the shoreline as small boats and seaplanes with go up and down the lake.

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Taking a Peak

Before we went on our pilgrimage across 10 states, we boarded a ferry and took the 20-minute excursion across Cisco Bay to Peaks Island, which is just past Fort Gorges — a foreboding military structure that can only be reached by boat.

Peaks Island is community filled with impressive homes and gardens. It takes about an hour to walk around the island where you can still visit cement bunkers built to watch for enemy submarines.

There is also the Fifth Maine Regiment Museum. It is a small museum that is filled with artifacts and pictures about Maine’s role in the American Civil War.

We nearly missed our ferry to the mainland, but a man named Carmine DeAngelo pulled up in a golf cart, asked to hop aboard and took us to the dock.

We Italians must stick together in times of crisis.

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Unearthing a Titanic Disaster

You marvel at these pristine relics displayed in sparkling-clean glass cases, but you suddenly realize the artifacts have been resting on the ocean floor and once belonged to people who perished at sea 94 years ago.

The objects are from one of the most tragic maritime catastrophes —the sinking of the RMS Titantic on April 15, 1912. The behemoth sank after colliding with an ice berg in the North Atlantic Ocean. Unfortunately, 2224 passengers died as the Modern Marvel plunged to the ocean floor.

These artifacts were on display at an exhibit in Portland this summer, We walked around each display as people quietly spoke to each other.

I think spectators were being discreet out of respect for passengers who never finished their journey.

Balloons over L-A

You know summer is winding down when the Balloon Festival comes to town in late August.

There was a large turnout this year and the two huge balloons — Darth Vader and Yoda — were on hand to wow crowds.

Luke Skywalker was wasn't there to go head to head with Vader, though.

South of the Mason Dixon Line

I have already written a long blog about our 1,700-mile road trip to Virginia and back. But I will offer more pictures of our voyage to Far South.

Here is the link and thanks for reading along with us: http://goodfellows52.blogspot.com/2016/08/south-of-mason-dixon-line.html