Turning 16, a visit to Boothbay, and few odds and ends

BOOTHBAY, Maine — My son, an avid map reader who has no use for GPS, called the shots from the back seat of our Ford Escape and kept his old man from driving his rig into the Atlantic Ocean.

Boothbay Harbor is connected by a hub of winding, snug roads that surround cozy coves, which offer panoramic views of the ocean. It is a great destination to visit if you want to leave the real world behind for a day or two. 

Sure, the specialty shops are special, and yes, we bought shirts with Boothbay plastered on them and a magnet to join the rest of our rag-tag collection on the refrigerator, but the area's beauty and sweet-smelling sea breezes rejuvenate the soul.

The big draw for us was a book store and a coffee cafe located in the center of town. We don't own E-readers. We enlighten ourselves the old fashion way by reading books. Anthony found the section about Maine's coast and purchased "Storms and Shipwrecks of New England." His passion for ships and New England's coastline began long ago and continues to this day. Our passion for coffee, especially dark roast, never wanes.

I was fortunate to be at the helm with a capable co-pilot, Terri, and our young navigator as I maneuvered our wagon through those charming, narrow streets. My son has been reading maps ever since he opened a book, and he doesn't depend on a computer to find his way in the world.

Anthony turns 16 on Sunday. That's a big deal for all of us who love him. 

That's why heading to Boothbay to celebrate his birthday was a treat for all of us.

At this point in his life, he is right on target to make something of himself in this upside-down world. He has made it easy for us — so far — and I am proud of him for being a great student and a kind and caring human being.

And we are lucky he still wants to hang around with his parents on long trips. But we do make a good team on those endless drives to somewhere.

After trudging through downtown and weaving in and out of stores, we had enough and wanted to see those out-of-the way places where the crowds don't go.

We took a breather at the Flagship Inn's pool to unwind from our journey before Anthony, guide and adventurer, got a hold of a map and planned our itinerary.

Of course, hunger was at the top of our to-do list. Restaurants are expensive, but I had a hankering for fresh haddock. Anthony called out directions as I kept my eyes on these narrow avenues. We arrived at Robinson's Wharf - a seafood restaurant, pub and a fish market all rolled into one location. It is a spacious eatery that offers indoor and outdoor seating, and of course, fresh fish. The huge widows offer a spectacular view of an inlet. We chose to sit inside after noticing a huge thunderstorm was about to batter the tiny cove. Nature's fireworks outside the big picture windows provided the entertainment to go along with our small talk at the dinner table.

We all had haddock sandwiches and tasty fries before heading for another destination - Bartlett Park on the other side of Boothbay. It is another one of Boothbay's many gems that is next to, you guessed it, another cove. The park is a spacious sanctuary that provides visitors with breathtaking views of the ocean. It is quiet, clean and great place to read a book.

I wanted to pitch a tent, put up a hammock and become a squatter for life

But we had to return to Auburn because I don't own a bank (license to steal). But there was another reason to return home - Anthony's birthday.

Terri and I can't believe this 6-foot-1 monster, who consumes gallons of milk each week and has the undying gratitude of dairy farmers across New England, is about to celebrate his 16th birthday.

Just another milestone for a son who, like all teens, is a work in progress.

But aren't we all at any age?

Going to the Dogs

PORTLAND, Maine -- Actor Humphrey Bogart once said that: "A hot dog at the ball park tastes better than a steak at the Ritz."

There's a lot of truth in Bogie's homespun philosophy. No matter if you are attending a game at Fenway Park or Hadlock Field, hot dogs are a sumptuous treat behind home plate.

Last Saturday, the Sea Dogs, Maine's finest, pulled out a 4-3 victory against the Trenton Thunder. 

My wife celebrated with a hot dog. Anthony chose pizza. My, my, my, how times have changed. Pizza at a ball park!

What would Bogie say?

No secret to his success

Anthony made honors, copped the freshmen Citizen's Award at Edward Little and passed his Outdoor Emergency Care course to inch closer to becoming a member of the Ski Patrol Team at Lost Valley in Auburn.

All I can do now is just stay out of his way as he moves through this world with courage, grace and humility.

Another friend leaves us

Quentin Curtis was a gentle and thoughtful neighbor who took a sincere interest in our son. Seven years ago, we lived on Coburn Street when Quentin introduced himself. He served his country, and like many military men, he joined the U.S. Post Office after his stint in the service.

He loved the game of baseball and often visited the Red Sox during spring training. I still have a signed autographed picture from Bob Feller. The late, great pitcher addressed a photo depicting Babe Ruth holding Feller's bat to my son. 

Mr. Curtis was always looking out for my boy, and to this day the guitar given to my son by Quentin sits in our picture room and a toddler's chair is still in our cellar.

Two treasured possessions I will never give up. They will always remind me of a kind man who had it right when it comes to being a genuine human being.

Burn factor

We were heading home through Lewiston when I thought I saw a dark storm cloud off in the distance. But it proved to be thick smoke billowing from a fire ravaging a huge apartment building located in the Little Canada section of Lewiston.

We took a few detours to get home, but I couldn't help think about the unfortunate souls who lost everything in the fire.

It also reminded me of just how lucky I am.

B

Take me back to the ball game

"You always get a special kick on opening day, no matter how many you go through. You look forward to it like a birthday party when you're a kid. You think something wonderful is going to happen."

- Joe Dimaggio

     AUBURN, Maine — Whoever thought a short story  about one spectacular moment in Red Sox history could resurrect a dormant memory about my deceased mother's past.

      The fond memory had been shoved aside to make room for the daily deluge of life's experiences that cram my crowded brain.

Songs, smells and certainly pictures of the past can also pry memories loose. Strolling the isles of an indoor flea market sends me down memory lane, too. All it takes is a rotary phone or an old Philco radio to trigger recollections of family members who have passed away.

This book, "Hub Fans Bid Kid Adieu," has now become a treasured possession. It was graciously given to me by my sister, Brenda, a year ago. 

The article detailing Ted Williams' last at-bat at Fenway Park on Sept. 28, 1960 was written by the late Pulitzer-prize winning author John Updike, and it first appeared in "The New Yorker" on Oct. 20, 1960. The 52-year-old magazine piece was turned into a book and published in 2010.

Updike writes about his fascination with baseball and Williams, who was also endearingly known as "The Splendid Splinter" and "Teddy Ballgame." It is indeed a splendid book about Williams' last hurrah at Friendly Fenway.

The storied moment, when Williams smacked his 521st home run in last at-bat in his 19-year career, is still talked about by the Fenway Faithful.

Decades later, my mother mentioned Williams' parting shot in passing at the kitchen table. She told the tale with a wide smile. I have spent hours in the kitchen listening to my mother's stories about her childhood and marriage to my father. My dad, on the other hand, left the storytelling to my mom, and she could spin a good yarn.

      

What I forgot was that my mother was THERE when The Splendid Splinter cracked one out of the park and into the record books. 

I know baseball fanatics who would trade their homes — or their wives for that matter — to witness Williams make his final round trip around the diamond. I know I am romanticizing this extraordinary moment in Major League Baseball's history. It is like watching "The Natural" all over again, and Williams is my parents' Roy Hobbs.

I was rolling around in a crib when my mother and father witnessed history on a cloudy September day in Boston over five decades ago.  My dad, whose memory is disappearing as Alzheimer's gets the upper hand, doesn't remember who babysat me. My mother was our living reference. When we had questions about our family's history, she was the go-to person until she passed away two years ago on a warm March Monday.

I cling to this memory of my parents catching a glimpse of Williams' final performance at Fenway Park. I need to hold on to those memories of my mother since I can no longer hold on to her in this life. I remember when she spoke about Williams and his home run. She just smiled as her eyes lit up the dinner table.

Williams' Fenway farewell in September 1960 is just another opportunity to remember my mother and keep her close to my heart.

But if Ray Kinsella could grant me one baseball wish, I would ask the Iowa farmer to find me a seat at Fenway on that September day to see — my parents together again as they watched Williams hammer out a piece of Red Sox history.