Missing in action — forever

Albert John Blasi through the years

"He didn’t tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it."

                                   ~Clarence Budington Kelland

CAPE ELIZABETH — Lingering grief is like being buried alive in a shallow grave.

Melancholy is grief’s best friend, and if you immerse yourself in endless desolation, you will be consumed by your own sorrow — like a rotting corpse resting in the deep earth.

I won’t allow that kind of emptiness to rule my life. My father wouldn’t tolerate it, either. And I don’t have a choice — I have a family that still needs me despite my sadness.

My father, Albert John Blasi, died this weekend on Nov. 8, 2014 — another casualty of a cruel disease known as Alzheimer’s. He was buried with full military honors after serving a tour of duty during the occupation of Germany in 1954. Actually, he played baseball for the U.S. Army’s post teams. It was a good gig, and instead of lugging around an M-1 Garand rifle, he carried a bat and donned a glove on a baseball diamond somewhere in Europe.

I have this great picture of him playing catch at Zepplin Field where Hitler’s Nazis rallied during World War II. Behind my father is a destroyed, concrete swastika — remnants of the Third Reich.

There were hundreds of mourners at his wake and a police escort accompanied the hearse to the cemetery where he was buried in Peabody, Mass.

I still have the flag which was draped over his coffin on that cold day. It sits in a case that rests on top of a curio cabinet that I bought for my parents long ago. Call it a shrine, if you like, but it doesn’t alleviate the pain that goes along with my father’s loss.

That takes time, sometimes counseling, and a begrudging acceptance, and there is no closure — just a deep wound that never heals.

He was a teacher, coach and father whose integrity, loyalty and compassion made him a respected member in a city just outside Boston, and his reputation as the Revere High baseball skipper for 42 years extended well beyond the borders of the Greater Boston area. Boston Globe writer Martin Pave did a wonderful job with his half-page article about my dad.

It is an anniversary that no one in our family cares to celebrate. The memories are painful and his permanent absence has left us all with a sense of longing and sadness.

The new normal is impossible to get used to, and there is not a day I don’t think about him or my mother. The house at 17 McClure Street has been sold, and that’s a different kind of sadness.

I knew hanging around my home recalling his last moments on earth would trigger paralyzing grief and a strong bout of depression.

That wasn’t going to happen. I did that for four years as I watched his beautiful mind and precious memories slip away as the Alzheimer’s slowly progressed.

So I spent this weekend visiting the ocean and walking trails along the coast with my son who came home from college for the weekend. He made these past few days bearable.

I grew up in a seaside community and I have always found the turbulent waters of the Atlantic a calming force in my life. We are all connected to the sea. 

The late President John F Kennedy said, “We are tied to the ocean. And when we go back to the sea — whether it is to sail or to watch it — we are going back from whence we came.”

Maybe that is why we headed south to visit one of our old stomping grounds — Fort Williams in Cape Elizabeth. It offers stunning views of the coastline and made me feel a helluva lot better to see the cold salt water lap against the shoreline and breath in the sea air on a chilly, windy November day.

For the next hour, I thought about my father, but in a positive way, avoiding the misery that accompanies grief.

Somedays are harder than others, but I have come to terms with his death, and although I miss him every day, I feel I was lucky to have parents who gave a damn about their four kids and put them first in their lives.

That feeling of loss never goes away as my grief subsides and acceptance takes a firm hold.

I see my father in my son and in my sisters’ children, too.

He lives on in all of us, but I still miss the man who stood for something good.

That will never change.

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

"Don't point that beard at me, it might go off”

— 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!